


Break your stereotype

by JasonPeace



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Love, First Time, Light Angst, Love at First Sight, M/M, Pedophilia, Romance, Twincest - Not Related, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 50
Words: 140,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasonPeace/pseuds/JasonPeace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jörg is an assassin who never gave a shit about anyone but himself.<br/>Tom is a street kid with a tragic past.<br/>Bill is a rock star on the search for true love.</p><p>Jörg is Bill’s father.<br/>Tom works for Jörg.<br/>Bill thinks his father is a truck driver.</p><p>Jörg loves Tom.<br/>Tom loves Bill.<br/>Bill loves an anonymous person who sends him love letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jörg walked self-consciously between the two guards that led him deeper into the old, Persian mansion. He hated people accompanying him in the way these two men were doing; it made him feel threatened and cornered. Unfortunately he had no choice if he wanted this job, and given the payment, he really wanted it. Four billion Iranian Rial was about hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and even though that wasn't the world, he could really use the money right now.

They walked into a large open living area which was decorated with colorful paintings, curtains and carpets. About a dozen people were seated on various large cushions, some of them eating or smoking shisha; it filled the stale, semi dark room with spices, making Jörg even more uncomfortable than he had been before.

His guards walked him to the very back of the room, towards a man that could easily be identified as the host due to his extravagant, traditional clothes. Jörg eyed him cautiously as they approached; there was something about him that made a shiver run up his spine. The man, perhaps about fifty-five or sixty, was smoking and eating in the company of two other men who all looked up as Jörg stopped in front of them, giving them a court nod.

"Ah, Weiss! Please, sit with us," the host pointed down to the cushions and carpets.

Jörg knelt down awkwardly; "Mister Soroush," he greeted politely, accepting the hookah that was handed to him. Jörg preferred cigarettes, but he wasn't in much of a position to refuse.

"I do trust you had a comfortable journey?" Soroush spoke with a heavy Iranian accent, despite his grammar being quite good.

Jörg gave another court nod; "Thank you for the invitation." He actually wanted to get right down to business, but by the looks of it Soroush seemed in no hurry as he made small talk about the weather and the traffic that Jörg couldn't care less about.

Soft flute and drum music began playing in the background, and people gazed eagerly at six young girls dressed in colorful gowns that came into the room, coming to a halt on the large carpet in front of Soroush. They bowed deeply before beginning to sway softly to the music while the on looking men watched gleefully.

Jörg felt a little uncomfortable; it's not that he didn't enjoy watching women dance in such a sensual way, but these girls looked no older than fourteen or fifteen at the most.

"Wonderful, aren't they?" Soroush elbowed Jörg with a grin.

Not daring to be impolite, knowing that these people didn't shy back from violence if they felt disrespected, Jörg nodded and smiled while he ate the offered food and drank the strong alcohol, trying not to think of how young those dancers were.

"So what contract did you have for me?" Jörg finally asked, beginning to grow impatient.

"Ah yes yes," Soroush nodded, waving for one of his men, who handed a brown folder over to Jörg.

Jörg flipped it open, his eyes quickly scanning the most important points written there: occupation, address, name.

"The chief of police?" He asked casually, masking his dreading feeling; "May I inquire about the reason?" Not that Jörg really cared, but he was beginning to put the situation together.

Soroush laughed; "Hardly any of your concern, Weiss. I hired you because I heard you don't ask questions and always work thoroughly."

"I was just making small talk," Jörg laughed dismissively; "It's not every day I get to kill an officer of the law." Of course Jörg had had countless encounters with the police, but never had an office been a target of his.

"You see, mister Weiss... my line of business is very delicate, and officer Fanaei has been recently promoted to chief, and now believes it is his job to make my life difficult. The last chief was a bit easier to persuade," Soroush laughed; "But unfortunately he retired and now Fanaei is in my way."

Jörg had been expecting as much, so he just laughed and nodded; "He won't remain a problem for long," he assured his contractor.

"Good man," Soroush nodded, focusing back on the dancing girls.

Jörg followed the other man's eyes, setting his gaze on the closest girl. His stomach turned into knots when he realized that that girl was, in fact, a boy. He eyed the rest of the dancers closely, noticing that they were all boys.

The sickening feeling in his stomach made him revolt against the food in his hands and he placed it down, not being able to look at it anymore. He knew what this place was; a child brothel. He had heard of them, of the young boys they called bacchá; teens and preteens forced into sexual labor and sold to wealthy men for entertainment.

Due to his job, Jörg dealt with the worst of people every day of his life; murderers, war lords, drug dealers, thieves, or kidnappers, even politicians were high on his list, they were all familiar to him, but it was the first time he came in contact with human trafficking and child prostitution.

For a moment he considered to just plain and simply kill his host right then and there, but reconsidered after taking another look at the heavily guarded doors; he would never make it out alive, and as much as he was against this, he wasn't willing to give his life for it. It wasn't really any of his business anyway; everyone had their own problems, and those kids were not one of Jörg's; he had enough other problems to deal with.

Once the boys were finally done dancing, various of the guests accompanied them somewhere into other rooms; Jörg tried very hard not to think of what would happen to them next.

"Come, I will give you a little tour," Soroush offered generously, but Jörg knew the man had ulterior motives. He had seen Jörg's indecision and turmoil at the situation, and he wanted to see his reaction to the truth of what he was doing. Jörg knew he was swimming in dangerous waters; if his host didn't trust him on this job, he would probably have him killed on the spot.

There had been a few jobs that Jörg had regretted taking, and this one was definitely climbing to the very front as he slowly followed Soroush through the narrow passages that gave insight to various colorful rooms, most inhabiting one or more young boys, all staring emptily up at them.

"We host over thirty boys here, between the ages of nine and seventeen," Soroush smiled coldly, clearly waiting for a reaction that Jörg was unwilling to give; he just nodded, smiling back as best as he could with the bile rising in his throat.

"What happens to them once they turn eighteen?" Jörg asked as casually as possible; he didn't actually want to know what happened to them, but he had to say something.

"It depends. Some are sold to plantations or factories, others are simply disposed of," he chuckled lightly.

Jörg nodded numbly, hearing himself laugh, the sound of his own laughter sounding cold and distant. 

"Recently I made a very interesting purchase that I'd like to show you," Soroush continued, leading him farther into the depths of the hellish house.

A little away from the other guest rooms, they paused in front of a curtain and his host smiled eagerly; "I bought him last year, off a Japanese trader for no more than two million Rial."

Jörg tried to calculate it in his head, figuring it must be around seventy dollars; that's all a child's life was worth here.

Soroush pulled the curtain back and Jörg tried to hide his horror at the sight. Sitting on the stone floor, shackled to the wall, was a young boy, no older than ten or twelve. Unlike the other boys, this one was beaten, dirty and stared up at them with hate filled eyes. Not to mention the fact that unlike all others, he was white. Not that that should have made a difference, but Jörg was still taken aback at the situation; what was a white kid doing here? He knew how the other boys all got here, most were sold by their families, or street children that no one wanted, but what about this one?

Absently he heard Soroush laughing again; "He's quite the defiant little rascal. Doesn't want to learn his place, the little slut." The man walked over to the boy who stared up at him, eyes wide with fear.

Jörg was painfully reminded of his ten year old son, Bill; he had been born in a country where something like sexual slavery was hardly known to people, and would never be subject to something so vile. Jörg silently thanked the stars that Bill was safe and sound back in Germany, and not living in a country like this, where laws, though existent, obviously failed to be enforced in certain areas.

His heart went out to the small boy, crouched down on the floor where Soroush pulled harshly on his hair, demanding his attention. The boy yanked his head away, jaws biting towards the hand of his oppressor, and apparently nipping him, by the pained howl from Soroush. Angrily he hit the boy across the face, causing his head to slam against the wall, where the boy slouched down, unmoving.

Swallowing drily, Jörg tried to laugh with Soroush as the man came back to his side, rubbing his hand; "That little shit. He hasn't been properly tamed yet, but don't worry... I'll teach him," he grinned maliciously at the frightened boy on the floor.

Jörg cringed at his own chuckle, hoping Soroush didn't realize how fake it was. Apparently he had.

"Don't you want to try him?" He asked with a soft smile, obviously having seen past Jörg's façade. Jörg thought he was about to be sick; Soroush didn't trust him with the job and the information he had, and this was a test to see where his loyalties lie. If he failed, Soroush would probably have him killed. Jörg cursed himself for having come here; he had known what a powerful man Soroush was, how could he have been so stupid as to get involved in this?

"I'll take your word that he's great," Jörg tried his best smile, praying it would convince the other man.

"Oh nonsense, Weiss," Soroush smiled sickeningly; "I insist." He raised a challenging eyebrow, silently questioning him.

Jörg shrugged, trying to keep the contents of his stomach in place; "Well if you insist," he smiled at Soroush, trying to win the man's trust and save his own life.

"I'll give you two some privacy then. I'll just be outside," he made sure Jörg knew that he couldn't cheat his way out of this; there was nothing but a curtain, and the person outside would be obviously aware of everything happening in the small room.

After another assertive grin from Jörg, Soroush left, closing the curtain behind him. Jörg took a deep breath of the ill-smelling air, trying to calm himself. The boy stared up at him with piercing brown eyes that were filled with fear and loathing.

For a moment neither moved as Jörg tried to swallow the lump in his throat, wondering how he could possibly do this; he was scared and felt sick, how was he going to get himself to have sex right now? The mere thought of this made him want to throw up.

"Everything alright in there, Weiss?" He heard Soroush's mocking voice.

"Of course," he answered lightly, taking a hesitant step towards the boy who immediately tried to push himself closer to the wall.

He knelt down on one knee, looking at the boy, trying to find some way to make this tolerable. He knew that no matter what he did, the boy would end up being raped, and there was nothing he could do to make the situation better for him.

For a brief second he thought of just killing the boy, to spare them both the following events, but fear of Soroush's wrath kept him from doing that. He had to worry about his own life right now; this boy was none of his business. As regrettable as the boy's fate might be, he was not Jörg's responsibility. Jörg convinced himself of the same thing he told himself every time that he did things that made him question himself: life was shit, live with it. Everyone was responsible for their own fate, and Jörg wasn't about to endanger his life just for the sake of this slave.

As he grabbed the boy's legs to pull him to the floor, Jörg told himself that he was used to it anyway; the boy had been raped plenty before, it was really no big deal. He knew this was a lie, and based on the boy's kicking and screaming, he was quite certain this was a big deal, but it was the only thing keeping him sane as he pushed the boy's small body to the ground, forcing himself on top of him.

The boy's hands were safely shackled to the wall, stopping him from moving around much, so Jörg had an easy time restraining the boy's thin legs that were trying to kick him. Easily, he pushed the few clothes from the boy's body, revealing a marred, beaten body. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the whip marks covering the boy's back, all the way from his shoulders to his badly bruised thighs.

He was glad the boy was lying on his stomach so he wasn't able to look into his eyes. As he watched the boy flimsily trying to free himself from the hopeless situation he was in, Jörg tried to think of everything he knew about gay sex; he had never had sex with another man, and didn't really know much about it. However he did know that this was going to be unspeakably painful for the boy, and desperately tried to think of a gentle way to ease him into it. Of course no matter what he did, it still left him with the problem that he was far from turned on, and had no idea how to get himself in the mood with this horrid situation. He had to do something to make Soroush believe he was having sex with the boy, and he had to do it fast.

Knowing he had to hurry with his decision, Jörg licked his sweaty fingers, coating them with the little saliva his dry mouth offered him. He held the boy down by the nape of his neck, guiding his shaking hand down the boy's back, until it reached its destination, eliciting a protesting scream from the child beneath him. The boy writhed and shook even more than before, still hopelessly trying to free himself. Jörg clenched his teeth against the loud screaming as he slowly slid his middle finger into the small boy's body. For a few endless minutes the screaming was only interrupted by choked out sobs that made Jörg's stomach twist painfully.

"Please stop!" The boy begged in broken English, causing Jörg to nearly give in and just let Soroush kill him. But he couldn't stop now, just a little longer and it would be believable. He closed his eyes against the stinging, and tried to block out the child's desperate pleas. He leaned over to the dirty, blond head trying to whisper soothing words into his ear that he knew had no comfort to offer him. The boy jerked violently, smacking his head up against Jörg's face. Jörg grunted and blinked against the sudden pain, tasting blood on his busted lip.

He threw in a few more grunts, having gotten the idea from it, and hoped Soroush would buy it as his finalization to the event. Slowly he withdrew his finger from the boy, leaving him lying limply and whimpering on the ground. Shakily he crawled into a sitting position, noticing the blood covering his fingers; disgusted he looked away, wiping his hand on the boy's dirty clothes. He had been quite certain that he hadn't been that rough on the boy; sickly he realized that the injuries hadn't been done by him, but by whoever had had the boy before him. Unable to stop himself, he glanced at the boy; despite the semi darkness he could easily make out the blood smeared between his legs, most of it old and dried.

Trying to fight down his nausea, he slowly stood up, making sure to keep his eyes ahead, and not let them rest on the horrible sight at his feet again; he stuffed his hand into his pocket, not wanting Soroush to see the drying blood gathered that.

As he pulled the curtain back, Soroush stood up and peeked into the room, at the now silent boy on the ground. He seemed satisfied with what he saw because he laughed lightly, patting Jörg on the shoulder. It took all of Jörg's will to stop himself from shaking the man's hand off as they began walking back down the hall.

"I've also had a few busted lips from that slut," he laughed, eyeing Jörg's bleeding lip. Again, Jörg tried his best to laugh.

As they reached the large hall in which they had first met, Soroush's men handed him the folder and a suitcase; "I'll trust you'll take care of my problem?"

"Of course," Jörg grinned as Soloush set the suitcase on a table for him to count the money. Half now, half later; that's always how things went down. To his great surprise he was being paid in dollars rather than rial; well money was money, it didn't really matter in the end.

After counting it thoroughly and being certain of the right amount, Jörg placed the folder in the suitcase, closing it.

"I'll be back for the rest by the end of the week," Jörg assured his contractor before the two guards led him back outside to his car.

Jörg drove out of the guarded gates, down the dusty dirt roads that would eventually take him to Chabahar, where his target was located. 

Usually he would listen to music during long drives, but right now he just couldn't get himself to switch on the radio. Silently he stared at the dirty, empty road ahead of him, trying not to look at his hand that still had dried blood stains; it was jobs like this one that made him question his career choice. He knew what he was, and he didn't really care; he didn't care about the people he killed, or the reason he killed them, he didn't even want to know, but this time it had been different. Out of all the jobs he had questioned, this one was the worst.

Unable to control himself any longer, he pulled the car to a screeching halt, pushing the door open just in time to vomit on the ground, heaving out everything he had eaten in the past few hours. He stumbled out of the car, thankful that the road was empty. He braced himself against the hot metal of his car, trying to steady himself as another wave of nausea overcame him. His throat burned and his eyes stung, though he wasn't sure if it was because of the pain in his throat, or the pain the slave boy had felt thanks to him. 

 

Through the telescope of his G22, Jörg watched chief Fanaei's car pulling into the driveway. For the past three days Jörg had watched him going about his daily life, waiting for the opportune moment and place. He had found it at the chief's driveway, at 18:23. Every day the man came home at this hour, parked his car in the driveway and went inside after gathering the mail. Predictable people were always an easy, safe target.

The house was in the middle of an upcoming neighborhood which offered plenty of construction sites for Jörg to hide. He had found his spot a few houses away, on the roof of an unfinished two-story house, with perfect view of the chief's driveway, a good thousand four hundred feet away.

Just like every day, Jörg told himself that this man's fate was none of his business. He tried to ignore the little voice that told him that this man was doing the right thing; he was trying to fight child abuse in a country where hardly anyone cared about it. His finger reached for the trigger as Fanaei stepped out of his car. He knew what he was doing was wrong, and that by killing this man he was probably dooming countless children to slavery, but like always, he managed to convince himself that that was none of his business. The chief walked to the mail box, stopping in front of it, his back turned to Jörg. The world had never cared about him, why should he care about the world.

The shot rang out, echoing through the buildings, as Fanaei collapsed to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom stood on his toes, trying to reach into the large garbage container where he saw a piece of what looked like edible bread. Just as he was about to reach it, the silence of the night was disturbed by an approaching car, and Tom quickly crawled behind the container, not wishing to be found. He knew that the only people who came down to the harbor at this time of night were thugs, or teenagers who wanted to take some illegal substance or other; neither of those was something he wanted to run into.

A moment later the lights of a car cut through the dark street that was only lit by a few scattered lamp posts that reached all the way down the short pier. The car drove as far as the street went, stopping at the wooden pier, only a few yards away from Tom's hiding spot.

Warily, he pressed himself harder against the wall, trying to keep out of the dim lights from the street as a man got out of the car, walking around the front to the passenger door and opening it. It was too dark for Tom to make out his face, but from the glimpses he had managed to see, the man looked American, or perhaps European. From the passenger door he withdrew something heavy; weights?

Tom swallowed nervously as he heard the rattling of chains that were attached to the weights that the man dragged to the edge of the pier before returning to his car; this time he went to the trunk, his back now turned to Tom. He opened the trunk and, just like Tom had feared, pulled a limp body out of it, half wrapped in dark plastic. He hauled it over his shoulder and took it over to the earlier objects he had left next to the dark ocean. After a few moments of rustling from the plastic and rattling from the chains, a loud splash broke the silence as the body with the weights fell into the Indian Ocean.

The man strode over to the trash cans, wrapping together the plastic he had removed from the body. Tom tried not to breathe as the man came to a halt on the other side of the container he was hiding behind, and began stuffing the plastic inside. However once finished, the man did not turn around and return to his car the way Tom had hoped, but remained standing there in silence. After a few rustling from clothes, and what sounded like a lighter, Tom decided to take a peek.

Carefully he peered around the side of the container, his heart jumping to his throat at the sight of the smoking man's face in the street light. Involuntarily he gasped and tried to jump back, smashing his head into the metal lid that hung behind the container.

He held his breath, heart racing frantically, and tried to listen to any sounds from the man, but there were none. Everything was deadly silent. He knew the man had heard him, and considered making a run for it even though he knew he didn't stand a chance; the man was a killer, and probably armed.

Tom knew who that man was; he remembered having been raped by him over a year ago. Tom had forgotten most of the faces from the men who had raped him, but this man was different; he was one of the few white people he had met in his life, easily setting him apart from all the others. The loud screeching from the container being pushed aside pulled him from his horrible memories, and he stared up at the man, holding a gun aimed at Tom's head. He couldn't see the man's face because of the street lamp behind it, blinding him slightly, but he could see the gun that was only inches from his head.

~*~

Jörg stared wide eyed at the cowering boy at his feet. He knew those piercing brown eyes that stared up at him in frightened defiance; they had haunted him countless nights in the past year. Even though the right side of the boy's face was scarred, it was unmistakably him.

Without any warning, the boy suddenly jumped up, slamming his body with full strength into Jörg, knocking them both to the ground. The boy wasn't particularly heavy, but having been caught completely off guard, Jörg had lost his balance and stumbled back, letting the gun slide down the pavement. The boy tried to scramble away from him, but Jörg had already collected himself and pulled him back down by his foot, causing the boy to yell angrily. He turned around, aiming a kick at Jörg's face, but he easily caught the boy's foot, twisting it over. With a pained yelp, the boy followed his foot, involuntarily flipping over on the street and landing face down. Before the boy could attempt another escape, Jörg straddled him, twisting his arms behind his back to keep him firmly in place.

Aside from the pained grunt from the boy, it was completely silent for a while; Jörg had no idea what he was doing, or why he even tried to stop the boy from getting away; it's not like the boy could tattle-tail on him. Jörg nearly laughed at himself.

~*~

Tom wanted to scream, but knew it wouldn't do him any good; he knew what the man was going to do to him, and at that moment he wished the man would have just shot him earlier. To make matters worse, after he was done, he would probably return him to Soroush; Tom tried to choke down the tears that were threatening to escape him at the awful thought. His last hope was that the man hadn't recognized him and would let him go afterwards; or kill him, both were better than going back to Soroush.

He heard the man fumbling around with something above him, before a large bundle of money dropped in front of his face. Tom stared at the roll that was kept together with rubber bands; he had never seen so much money before.

After a few seconds, the man suddenly released him and stood up, retrieving his gun from where it had landed. Tom eyed the piece of metal in his hand, not sure of what to do or think; carefully he crawled up, sitting in front of the man who aimed the gun at his head again.

"How'd you get away from Soroush?" The man's voice was cold and harsh, and it destroyed Tom's last hope of never having to return to that place.

He couldn't bring himself to speak, so he just sat there, trying to come up with some clever way to die before this man took him back to his earlier owner.

"Well whatever," the man shrugged after a moment of silence in which he realized Tom wouldn't answer; "So you resorted to digging through trash for a living?" he laughed, jerking his head towards the trash cans.

Tom didn't answer again. He didn't know what to say; he was confused as to why this man was talking to him instead of either killing him, or taking him back. And what was up with the money still lying there?

"For how long? Until another shark catches and sells you?" the man continued questioning him.

Tom had seen various sharks in this city; they kidnapped street children and sold them to the highest bidder. It was the same that had happened to Tom a few years ago, but now he was smarter; he hid and refused any help that any person tried to offer him; he learned the hard way that nothing was given for free.

"Right," the man chuckled quietly; "Nice prospects for your future."

Tom still remained silent, still not knowing what to say; he was just really confused at this point. He knew that his future looked bleak, and that sooner or later he would end up dead on a street corner, or worse, but it's not like he had a choice.

"Work for me, and I'll provide you with everything you need," the man kicked the bundle of money close towards him.

Tom's stomach twisted painfully and anger rose into his chest; "As what, your personal whore?" he snarled angrily; "I'd rather die!"

The man laughed harshly; "Don't flatter yourself kid, that was just upon Soroush's request. I would never willingly fuck a disgusting slut like you."

Somewhere deep down Tom felt a cold stabbing at the man's words, even though theoretically seen what the man said was a good thing. If he didn't want to have sex with him, what in the world did he want? Tom didn't have to wait long for an explanation.

"I have a lot of work," he gestured towards his car; "I'm sure you know what line of business I'm in, and I could use someone to assist me. I can teach you everything you ever wanted to learn. If you work for me, I assure you that you'll never be lacking money, and no one'll ever dare try to enslave you again."

The last sentence struck Tom's interest immensely; if there was some way in which he could get out of the life he had, he would take it, even if it meant working for a hit-man who had raped him.

Before Tom decided what to reply, the man dropped a piece of paper that fluttered down to the ground, landing next to the money; "Come see me there when you run out." With that, the man turned around and walked back to his car.

Tom watched him get in, start the engine and slowly pull back up the street he had come down from. He stared after the car until long after it was out of sight.

Confusion was an understatement for the shock Tom felt; who was that man? And what did he want from him? Surely there were better candidates to work for him?

Carefully, Tom picked up the money, almost scared that it might explode upon being touched, and took the piece of paper; it contained nothing but an address.

~*~

Jörg dropped down on his bed, still not believing what he had just done. He had actually given his address to a random kid he had seen on the street, what in god's name had he been thinking?! He should have just shot the boy.

With a loud groan, he rolled himself back up and began shedding his clothes for the night. However upon turning off the light once he was buried deeply inside the comfort of his bed, sleep refused to come. The only thing he could think about was that child that was probably lying somewhere in some cold ally, half starved to death. Just thinking about the boy made him restless, and he couldn't even explain why; why the hell did he care if the kid was starving and freezing somewhere out there? It was none of his business after all.

And yet he spent the next hour trying to rid himself of the boy's haunted eyes and whimpering sobs which kept playing over and over in his mind. Somewhere on the border between sleep and wake, Jörg's irrational mind hoped that the boy would show up soon.

~*~

Tom shivered slightly inside his cardboard box, hugging his knees against the cold. The nights here weren't extremely cold, but not warm either.

No matter how much he tried, sleep just wasn't coming tonight. He still stared at the money and the piece of paper that the man had left him; was he being true with what he said? Tom didn't believe a single word of it, even though he so desperately wanted to. Given everything that had happened in his life, it was practically impossible for him to believe the man had good intentions with him, but what other choices did he have? The man had been right; how long before another shark caught him and he ended up right where he was a few months ago. Maybe this man was his only chance of getting out of this life.

He had to think back at the last time he saw the man over a year ago; he remembered the man's reluctance at the situation, and that it had been Soroush's idea. He also well remembered that the man had done something different to him than all the other's; he didn't really know what, but it had been different. It hadn't been as painful as the other times he remembered, and he had also been very aware that the man didn't seem to be enjoying himself very much; he wasn't violent, loud or abusive the way the other's had all been. Was he telling the truth when he said he didn't want to have sex with Tom?

Perhaps it was worth a shot. All other options were far worse, for sure.

~*~

Softly placing his finger on the trigger of his M82, Jörg watched his next target through the window. The man sipped his tea and read the newspaper; just like every day at 22:12.

In a few moments he would get up, deposit his mug in the sink, open the veranda door and step outside to smoke before going to bed.

Just as predicted, the man stepped outside, lighting a cigarette while sitting down on the bench. Jörg watched the leaves of the nearby trees for the wind current, but it was nearly none existent. The man took another long drag while Jörg aimed at his neck, knowing the bullet would drop in flight and hit somewhere in the man's chest. His finger graced the trigger and he watched the man's body jerk, blood splattering the pale wall behind him as the heavy caliber of the .50 BMG penetrated his chest, ripping him apart. Of course the caliber could have been a smaller one, but Jörg didn't want to take any chances, after all it was at a distance of over two thousand five hundred feet.

Satisfied with his kill, Jörg quietly climbed down from the warehouse after packing away his rifle. He returned to his car and pulled out of the street just as police began approaching the scene, rushing past him with flashing lights and sirens.

After parking his car next to the apartment complex he was currently living in, he removed the rifle case from the trunk and searched for the keys to his apartment. The complex in which he lived was run down and old, filled with all sorts of scumbags and low lives that no one wanted to associate with; it was the perfect place to be anonymous.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jörg stared down at the boy sitting in front of his door, looking up at him with uncertain eyes.

The boy quickly scrambled to his feet, stepping away from the door so Jörg could unlock it. He placed the rifle down next to the door, and looked back at the boy who hadn't come in yet.

"Are you coming or going?" he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The boy hesitated for a moment before stepping into the apartment, looking around warily.

"Close the door," he ordered, hoping the boy wouldn't hear the nervous edge to his voice. Why was he nervous anyway? If anyone should be nervous, it was that kid, not him. But Jörg couldn't slow his rapid heartbeat down as the boy slowly followed him into the kitchen.

Just like four days ago, Jörg was well aware of the boy's awful smell that was beginning to crowd his apartment. Absently he wondered when the kid's last shower was; by the looks and smells of him, probably a very long time ago.

He pulled two glasses from a cupboard, proceeding to fill them with juice from the fridge before handing one of them to the boy, who, after another short moment of hesitation, took it from him.

"My name is Jörg Weiss," he finally introduced himself, having completely forgotten to do that the last time they met.

The boy eyed his outstretched hand suspiciously, clearly with no intention to shake it; maybe it was better that way, Jörg really didn't want to know where that kid's hands had been.

"Tom," he muttered softly.

"Tom what?" Not that Jörg really wanted to care, he just wanted to have a full name.

"Just Tom," he mumbled, even more quietly than before.

Jörg nodded slowly; perhaps he didn't know. He pitied the boy, and wondered for the millionth time how he had ended up with such a miserable existence.

"Right. Well before we do anything else, you have to take a shower because I can't stand your horrid stench any longer," he said a lot harsher than intended.

The boy didn't blink at his cold remark and followed him silently into the small bathroom where Jörg pulled two towels from the cupboard, and searched through a drawer, trying to find a spare toothbrush. After finding what he was looking for, he placed it next to the sink, together with the towels, and began rummaging through the cabinet.

"Do you know what this is?" he held a spray can up for the boy to see; the kid shook his head silently.

"It's called deodorant and goes in your armpits. Use it," he ordered, placing the object next to the towel on the sink. The boy just nodded again, eyeing the can curiously.

"Leave your clothes on a pile here," he pointed behind the door; "I will get you something else to wear." Of course Jörg had no idea what he was supposed to give the boy, but there was no way he was going to let him run around his apartment with those smelly old rags.

The boy stared up at him with suspicious eyes as Jörg turned on the shower so it would be warm until the boy got in.

"Take your time showering, and be generous with the soap. I'm going out," he said before exiting the room and closing the door.

A moment later he heard the boy hastily locking the door from the inside.

~*~

After quickly locking the door to make sure Weiss couldn't come back in, Tom marveled at the shower. He remembered showers; he had taken them often as a young child, but that had been so long ago.

Quickly he shed his clothes, tossing them in the corner where Weiss had told him to, and then stepped into the shower. He gasped softly as the warm water touched his skin; he couldn't remember the last time he had felt warm water.

Closing his eyes against the soft warmth, Tom let out a long sigh; this was definitely worth whatever Weiss wanted from him. After all, whatever it was, it couldn't be worse than what Soroush had done to him.

Tom nodded firmly; he was optimistic about this unusual turn of events he decided as he reached for the shampoo bottle. He opened the cap and sniffed at it; it smelled really nice. He tried to remember the last time he had washed himself, but couldn't really come up with any clear images, or any information that would tell him how much shampoo was necessary. Eventually he just poured a small amount on his hand, and began rubbing it into his hair. It was soft and made bubbles. A few moments later he decided to use a little but more, just to be sure that he was clean.

After thoroughly scrubbing around on his head for a while, he stepped under the spray again, letting it wash away the soap and dirt. Tom proceeded to soap up his entire body, carefully tracing his fingers over various tender spots where injuries were still healing. Most of his wounds were healed, but there had been a few that had taken longer due to infections or the like.

Half an hour later Tom was nearly finished; the only thing missing were his feet which, despite having been washed various times, refused to go clean. Eventually he just gave up; it's not like anyone really cared if his feet were a bit dirty.

Carefully he stepped onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, using one towel to dry himself while the other found its place wound around his head to keep his slightly long hair up.

Tom stared at his reflection in the mirror; it had been a long time since he had seen such a clear image of himself. He could barely identify himself with the boy looking back at him. His once untarnished skin was covered in scars, half of which he didn't know where he'd gotten them from. His face was pale, his eyes had dark circles and his cheeks were sunken in, showing the world how underweight he was. The right side of his face was covered with two large, awful scars; one reached from his hairline straight down to his cheek, going right over his eye, and the other from just above his ear, almost reaching to the corner of his mouth.

He swallowed thickly at the sight; he looked so ugly his own reflection disgusted him . Quickly he looked away, focusing on drying himself off.

Once he was completely dry, Tom took another close look at the can that Weiss had placed next to the toothbrush; what was it called again? Tom had forgotten; he just remembered that he was supposed to spray it under his arms.

After removing the cap, he sprayed into the air, just to see what would happen. He sniffed into the spray, coughing from the strong scent that tickled his nose and throat. Once the coughing was over, he sprayed under his arm, almost squawking at the sudden cold against his warm skin; he decided to be more careful with the other arm, and sprayed from a slightly bigger distance.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he took the toothbrush, avoiding the mirror at all costs; that was a sight he didn't want to see more often than absolutely necessary. He put paste from the tube on the brush, and brought it to his lips, trying to remember how this worked.

The toothpaste tasted minty and strong, almost a bit too strong for Tom's taste buds that weren't used to the sensation at all. Nevertheless he concentrated on carefully brushing his teeth, making sure not to stab his gums in the process.

"Are you done yet?" Weiss' harsh voice interrupted the silence, nearly causing Tom to choke on the foam in his mouth. Quickly he spat it all out into the sink.

"Yes," he answered as he began to rinse his mouth; it felt somewhat ticklish.

"There's clothes for you at the door," the assassin replied from outside.

As Tom opened the door he found a pile of neatly stacked clothes there; quickly he pulled them into the bathroom and shut the door before getting dressed in them. It was a simple t-shirt which was way too big for him, and baggy pajama pants; they were by far the nicest clothes Tom had ever had.

He peeked out the door, but found the living room empty. The couch had been made into a bed, and Tom stared at it with wide eyes; he barely dared to hope that that was actually for him.

Weiss took that moment to open the door between his bedroom and the living room.

"There's some dinner in the kitchen if you're hungry. I'm going to bed," he said shortly and turned around, closing the door he had been standing in.

Tom stared at the door in disbelief; dinner?

Cautiously he walked into the kitchen, almost feeling as if he wasn't allowed to, despite the fact that Weiss had offered it. Sure enough there was a plate standing on the table, with a fork lying next to it. Tom could hardly believe it as he sat down, staring at the plate, half expecting it to disappear in front of his eyes. But the plate didn't disappear, and so Tom scarfed down the first real meal he had had in various years; in that moment he was certain this was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten, despite the fact that it was just rice with lentils.

After the meal, Tom washed his hands and quietly returned to the living room. He stared at the couch; was he really allowed to sleep there? Perhaps he should lie on the floor, just to make sure Weiss wasn't angry with him.

Tom nodded; it was still a lot warmer and nicer than all the other places he had had to sleep, so he curled himself up on the carpet next to the couch after switching off the lights, and fell asleep almost instantly, accompanied by the unusual, happy feeling of a full belly and a warm carpet.


	3. Chapter 3

Jörg rolled over in his bed, not wanting to get up. It took him a second to remember the boy who had spent the night in his apartment, and decided to get go up to make sure his apartment was still the way he had left it last night; he knew how risky that had been to let the kid stay, after all he knew nothing about him. He still hadn't fully comprehended what had driven him to make the decision to let the boy stay, but there was just something about him that drove Jörg crazy; maybe it was the guilt at what he had done to him. Of course he knew that the boy had been through far worse, but for Jörg that ranked on the top five things he regretted doing in his life, and one of the things that had haunted him the longest.

Quietly he unlocked his door and looked into the living room; the couch was untouched and there was no sign of the boy. Jörg got a little nervous, and stepped farther out, only to see the boy curled into a tight ball on the other side of the couch. He blinked a few times; had the boy fallen off? But the blankets on the couch hadn't been moved; apparently the boy had chosen to sleep on the floor. An uneasy feeling crept over Jörg, which felt suspiciously close to guilt, even though he didn't know what he was feeling guilty about. Should he have told the boy to sleep on the couch? But it had been obvious, hadn't it?

With a soft sigh, he pulled the blanket off the couch, wanting to place it over the boy, however as soon as the blanket touched him, the kid jumped up, nearly smashing his head into Jörg's face. Jörg took a cautious step back, giving the apparently confused and frightened boy a bit of space.

The kid looked around in alarm, staring wide eyed up at Jörg, as if only now remembering where he was and why he was there.

Not knowing what to say or do, Jörg walked into the small kitchen to give his guest some time to calm down, and make breakfast in the meantime. As he entered the kitchen he found the plate that the boy had deposited in the sink last night, and the fork he had left on the table, unused. That kid was so gross.

~*~

Tom's heart raced frantically as he watched the man retreat into the kitchen; for a second he thought the man had far more terrible intentions, but apparently he had just been trying to wake him. He glanced at the clock hanging above the door; it was already 7:42. He could barely remember a time when he had slept so long into the day; usually Tom was up with the sun so he could hide from any dangers that might approach him, but he hadn't even been aware of the rising sun due to the thick curtains that made it pleasantly dark despite the bright sun outside.

Gingerly he got up, placing the blanket back on the couch that he had apparently pulled down a bit during the night; hopefully Weiss wouldn't be angry about it.

Not knowing what to do, Tom sat back down on his earlier sleeping spot and waited. He actually had to pee, but wasn't sure if he was allowed to use the bathroom in here, or if he should just go outside, and he was too embarrassed to ask Weiss about it.

In the kitchen he heard the man moving around, apparently cooking himself some breakfast. Soon enough the apartment was filled with a delicious smell that Tom couldn't quite identify, despite the fact that it was very familiar; in the past few years warm food wasn't really something he had eaten a lot. His stomach rumbled softly, and his mouth started to water; not being able to eat was a lot worse when there was food around.

"Get in here," Weiss' voice called from the kitchen, and Tom hurried as to not make him wait.

Upon entering the kitchen he found Weiss, wearing almost the same clothes that Tom had been wearing for the night, standing at the stove and pouring hot tea into two mugs. The small table was set with two plates of scrambled eggs, a large plate of lavash bread, and a bowl with tabrizi cheese. Tom stared at all the food while Weiss brought over the cups that he placed next to the plates before sitting down.

Tom didn't know what to do; was the man expecting him to sit? At the table? With him? At the same time? He felt a nervous twinge in his stomach; he didn't remember the last time he had sat at a table with someone to eat. Not daring to make crazy assumptions such as thinking that the second plate was for him, Tom just stood there, barely daring to breathe.

"Sit!" Weiss suddenly snapped, sending him an irritating glare.

Tom jumped at the sudden outburst, but quickly recovered and sat down in the empty seat, opposite the assassin who had returned to eating, not paying any further attention to him.

Nervously, Tom eyed the food, and watched as the man ate his eggs with a fork. Tom had seen forks before; he had even used them a long time ago.

"Do I seriously have to tell you to eat?" Jörg glared angrily after a few moments in which Tom just sat there, watching the other man eat in silence.

The situation was just too bizarre for Tom; he didn't know how to behave, or what to say. Weiss was friends with Soroush; why was he so different from the older man? Tom hadn't even been allowed to breathe without permission from Soroush, why was Weiss just expecting him to do anything he wanted?

Hoping not to anger Weiss any further, Tom quickly reached for the fork and brought it down to the plate, trying to scoop up some scrambled eggs the way the other man was doing, but it proved to be a lot harder than it looked.

~*~

Jörg hung his head low to hide his smile as he watched the boy battling with his breakfast; obviously he hadn't used a fork in a long time, if ever at all. He wondered how many other things there were that the boy didn't know; what had he gotten himself into?

Breakfast stretched long and silent, and Jörg purposefully slowed down his eating so the boy wouldn't be too far behind since almost every mouthful took him at least two or three tries before he managed to keep it on the fork long enough to bring it to his lips, but thankfully he was too concentrated on eating, and didn't catch Jörg staring transfixed at the unusual situation. It was almost cute the way the boy tried very hard to leave a decent impression, judging by his slow, concentrated movements; Jörg was sure, had the boy been alone, he would have stuffed everything in his mouth and wolfed it down in a few seconds.

The longer he watched him, the more worried he got about the upcoming future for them; what was he going to do with a child like that? His life didn't have space for children; that was the reason he barely got to see his own son; killing and children should be kept far apart from each other in Jörg's opinion. And yet he had let this kid in, and asked him to work for him; it was ridiculous, he didn't even need help, much less from a preteen that wasn't capable of using a fork properly.

What was he going to do with him? The boy didn't do anything he wasn't told to; he had slept on the floor for heaven's sakes, just because he hadn't specifically ordered him to sleep on the couch. Of course blind obedience had its perks, but somehow Jörg wasn't sure he wanted to abuse the boy's fear, no matter how practical it might result to be: for unknown reasons he felt responsible for him.

"Pay attention because I'm only going to say this once," Jörg began when the boy finished his breakfast and Jörg was sure he had his undivided attention; "You will be independent without waiting for me to boss you around. You will sleep on the couch. You will shower at least twice a week and wear clean clothes. You will brush your teeth every day, and you will wash your hands after using the toilet. You will eat whenever you are hungry. You will clean up after yourself. You will learn everything I teach you, no matter how boring it may be. You will watch what I do, and follow my example. You will go to sleep when I do; you will get up when I do. And yes, you will do all of these things without me reminding you. Is that clear?"

The boy stared at him without blinking a single time until Jörg had finished his rant before he nodded slowly.

"Good," Jörg finalized, getting up and depositing his dishes in the sink; immediately the boy got up and followed his example. Jörg turned his head away with a small smile; at least the boy wasn't difficult to handle.

~*~

After they cleared the table and Weiss soaked their dishes in the sink, Tom followed the man back into the living room. What exactly was he saying? Tom wasn't used to just doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to; of course it was what he had wanted for years, but now that the man actually offered him the option, he had no idea how to react to it. Did this mean he was allowed to use the bathroom here? Because he really needed to by now.

"I-I need to go to the bathroom," Tom mumbled awkwardly, staring down at the floor.

"And you forgot where it is?" Weiss snapped; "As long as it doesn't involve me, I don't care what you do, nor do I want to know. Don't tell me shit like that."

Before Tom could apologize, Weiss pointed to the bags standing by the door; "There's clothes in there for you."

With that said, he slammed the door to his room, leaving Tom standing alone in the living room, wondering whether that meant he could go to the bathroom here or not. After all it was Weiss' bathroom, so technically seen it did involve him. Tom groaned quietly; whatever, he really needed to pee. At this point he just didn't care anymore, and decided to use the bathroom, hoping the man's words earlier had meant that he wouldn't beat him for doing so.

After finally having gone to the toilet, and washing his hands just like Weiss had said, Tom opened one of the plastic bags that the man had told him contained clothes for him. Inside were jeans, t-shirts, underwear, a hoodie and a pair of sneakers which turned out to be a bit too big for Tom, but he didn't care; it was the first time in years that he wore actual shoes. While Tom got dressed, he heard Weiss inside his room, probably making a phone call.

He placed the remaining clothes in the bags next to the couch, just as Weiss came back into the living room, now fully dressed for the day.

"Let's go," he ordered sternly, slipping into his shoes by the door.

Tom quickly followed the man's fast pace outside and waited while he locked the door before they headed down to the car. Weiss got in, obviously expecting Tom to follow him, but he didn't know where to sit; should he sit in the back? Probably. Even though he really wanted to sit in the front; Tom had never sat in the front before.

Deciding to be daring, Tom boldly opened the front passenger door, eyeing Weiss for any sign of anger, but after none came, he slid into the seat, firmly shutting the door.

Weiss fastened his seat belt, and gave him an expectant look; quickly Tom reached behind himself for the seat belt, and did just as Weiss had; he hadn't forgotten what the man had said earlier and was determined to prove himself capable of learning. For some weird reason Tom really wanted Weiss to like him; sure Tom hated him, but so far he had proven to be the most generous person he had ever met, and Tom really wanted to be favored by the man.

They drove in silence for quite some time, while Tom simply enjoyed the scenery; it was the first time he had ever taken a trip like this, and it was very exciting for him.

After a good twenty minutes, they pulled up to a nice suburban house, parking on the street in front of it. Weiss got out, and Tom quickly followed him up to the door where they waited after Weiss had rung the doorbell.

Soon enough a man opened the door, smiling at them.

"Hey, come on in," he said, shaking Weiss' hand before stretching it out to Tom, who just stared at it, not really sure what to do with it. Weiss had also stretched his hand out like that; Tom had seen people shaking hands before, but he had never done it. After a second of hesitation, a raised eyebrow from their host, and a glare from Weiss, he awkwardly took the man's large hand.

"My name is Brian Crowley," he introduced himself with a warm smile, and Tom answered with his name.

The man led them through his house, to the living room while he and Weiss exchanged pleasantries until Crowley gestured for them to sit down. He placed a sheet of paper and a pen in front of Tom; the paper had various things written on it in English that Tom had difficulty reading; he had learned English a while ago, but he had never been that good at it, and had forgotten most of it already. He sent Weiss a questioning look while Crowley went to the kitchen to get them an offered drink.

"This is for your passport. Just fill it out," Weiss answered his unspoken question.

"Passport?" Tom asked in disbelief; he knew what a passport was: a traveling document. Where they going somewhere?

"I can't hang around Iran forever, kid, and if you intend to work for me, you will have to accompany me wherever I go. Unless you'd rather stay here?" he questioned coolly.

Tom quickly shook his head, overcome with nervous excitement; would he finally be able to get out of Iran?

The first point on the sheet of paper asked for his academic degree; Tom had no idea what that was, and sent Weiss another questioning glance. Weiss rolled his eyes and snatched the paper away from him, filling out a few points.

"When and where were you born?" he asked without looking at him.

Tom tried to remember, but couldn't; he hadn't celebrated his birthday since he was five, and couldn't remember what date that had been on; "I don't know," he mumbled awkwardly.

Now Weiss turned to look at him, an unusual expression on his face; "You don't know how old you are?"

"Um... 12?" he asked, feeling like an idiot; who didn't know how old they were? Tom had completely lost track of time over the years. 

Crowley returned with two bottles of beer and a bottle of something black that Tom had never seen before, which he placed in front of him.

"Right..." Weiss nodded slowly; "I'll just give you a birthday then." He wrote something down in the designated slot before continuing; "Do you know where you were born?" He asked after taking a drink from the dark bottle.

"In Japan," Tom answered, relieved that he could answer at least one of the questions asked.

"Where in Japan?" Obviously that wasn't enough for Weiss.

"I don't know," Tom replied dejectedly, staring at the black bottle with the red label. It looked disgusting, why would anyone drink this?

"Fine. Tokyo then," the man shrugged, writing it down. "I doubt you know how much you weigh or how tall you are?" He asked after another moment of silence.

Tom shook his head sadly.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get a scale and a measuring tape," Crowley gave him a warm smile.

Weiss sighed and took another swig from his bottle. Tom decided to try the suspicious looking drink, not wanting to seem impolite. He look a large gulp from the liquid and nearly choked on it, coughing loudly and spilling some onto the table; the fizzy drink tingled his mouth and throat, making it impossible for him to swallow properly. He gagged against the unusual feeling, and noticed Weiss staring at him with an outraged expression on his face.

"I-I'm sorry," Tom rasped quietly, staring at the mess he had made on the table.

"What the heck...?" Crowly asked as he returned mere moments later and saw the mess.

"Sorry Brian," Weiss smiled, sending Tom an angry glare.

Crowley smiled with a shrug; "No harm done. Come on Tom, step on this," he pointed to the scale he had placed on the floor.

Tom watched, fascinated, as the digits on the scale showed 74lbs. The man nodded, telling Weiss the number who wrote it down on the paper. He pulled out a measuring tape and told Tom to stand straight against a wall. Apparently Tom was 5'1 feet.

"Good god, kid, you need to put on some weight," Crowley said with a worried glance at the tape, before telling Weiss the number again.

"Alright, now we just need a picture," he said with a bright smile; "Please stand still," he said as he retrieved a camera from a drawer in the hallway; "Alright, now just look naturally into the lens here," he pointed to the camera, and Tom did as he was told. He flinched as the camera flashed, blinking against the sudden bright light; theoretically seen Tom knew what the man was doing, but he had never had a picture taken of him before; it made him a bit nervous.

"Let's try it again, alright?" Crowley smiled gently as he shot a few more pictures before he was satisfied with the outcome.

~*~

Jörg watched as Brian took pictures of the very awkward looking boy, and again wondered what he had gotten himself into with this kid. He stared down at the form; the poor kid didn't even know how old he was. Not being able to come up with anything else, Jörg had given him the same birthday as Bill; the first of September 1989. He suspected that the boy might be a bit older, but whatever. He had hoped this form might give him a bit more insight on the boy, but obviously not. The only thing he found out was that the boy came from Japan; obviously not by origin, but he had lived there. And it confirmed his worries of the kid's underweight; he made a mental note to go grocery shopping later.

Once everything was filled out and the kid's picture was taken, Jörg handed Brian an envelope containing ten grand; the normal price for a passport. Brian nodded, letting him know that the document would be ready within a week's time; so now all he had to do was stay here for one week and find something to do. Great.

On the drive home, Jörg contemplated his next move: he had no idea where to begin with the boy. There were a million things he had to teach him, but had no idea how to start; completely putting aside that he was terrible with children, he had never taught anyone anything in his life and had no idea how to proceed with that.

Perhaps he should just start at the beginning; the same place he had started at as a kid. They had a long way to go, he mentally groaned at the thought.

"Sit down," Jörg gestured at the kitchen table, grabbing a notebook and pen, placing it in front of the kid; "I want you to write down everything I say, because I have no intention to repeat myself, got it?"

"I can't write," the kid mumbled softly, giving him a frightened look.

Jörg didn't really know what to say to that; well that just ruined his whole plan; "Great. You're more useless than I thought," he snapped, nearly biting his tongue for the harsh comment. What in the world compelled him to say something like that? It was as if he just didn't dare be nice to the poor kid who hung his head, obviously ashamed of his lack of knowledge. Jörg decided he would teach him that as well.

"Whatever, we'll start with something else until you learn it." He motioned for the kid to follow him back into the living room where he grabbed the rifle case, setting it on the small table in front of the couch that was still made into a bed. He shoved the covers aside, sitting down and waiting until the kid sat down on the floor in front of the table, staring with wide eyes as he opened the rifle case.

"The first thing you are going to learn is how to disassemble, clean and then reassemble a rifle," he instructed as he began to disassemble the rifle that he had forgotten to clean last night; he couldn't believe he had made such a beginners' mistake; it had been years since he had last forgotten to clean a big bore after using it. Well it was just one night, it would survive that.

The boy watched every one of his movements so closely that it nearly made Jörg nervous; he wasn't used to working with others watching him. Of course he could disassemble every one of his rifles in his sleep, but doing it while someone watched him with hawk eyes was a bit unnerving.

After cleaning it thoroughly and oiling the barrel, he began to reassemble it, making sure to go slowly so the boy would hopefully memorize a bit of it.

"Your turn," he said as he pushed the rifle towards the boy; well this should be interesting.

Carefully the boy ran his hands over the metal of the M82, sending him a nervous glance, but Jörg decided to remain passive and let him work it out on his own.

Surprisingly enough, the boy managed to disassemble the entire rifle, step by step exactly the way Jörg had done, in less than ten minutes.

"Now put it back together," he sneered with a mocking grin; he was almost jealous - it had taken him a lot longer the first time.

To Jörg's utter astonishment, the boy actually managed to put the entire rifle back together correctly. Sure, it took him nearly half an hour, but he had managed it without a single hint; either the boy had done this before, or he was a natural around weapons. Either way, Jörg's curiosity was awoken, and for the first time he felt good about his choice to take the boy in; perhaps he would prove to be useful after all.

Part of him wanted to praise the boy, but he quickly stopped himself; high self-esteem was not something good. Instead he brought back the notebook from the kitchen and tossed it at the boy.

"I presume you know a bit of the English alphabet?" Jörg really hoped he didn't have to start at the very beginning; the boy nodded slowly.

"Good. Write down all the letters you know," he ordered as he got up to make some lunch.

The rest of the day passed in moderate silence while Jörg read through his next contract and the kid sat on the floor, copying off a ballistics book from which Jörg hoped he would understand at least bits and pieces.

The boy's writing was so scrawny Jörg could hardly make out what he was trying to write, but hopefully that would get better with practice; he had seen earlier that the kid had good motor skills, and just lacked practice, no matter in which area; regardless if it was forks or pens, the kid seemed to have used neither a lot in his life.

Shortly after 11 pm, Jörg realized that the poor kid could hardly keep himself awake anymore; even he had to admit that it had been a long day, and he was more than ready for bed.

He smiled silently into the darkness of his room as he heard the kid finishing in the bathroom, obediently brushing his teeth just like he had told him to. Jörg had to think about Bill; the boy was impossible to get into bed in the evening; he refused to do anything anyone told him, and the more someone told him to do something, the more he refused to do so. The boys were exact opposites in everything; one was full of life and happiness while the other was lonely and bitter; one was rebellious and feisty while the other was scared and obedient; one was loving and fun while the other was hateful and broken.

Bill and Tom; what a pair they would be if they ever met.


	4. Chapter 4

Tom tried to keep himself from groaning at the things Weiss was telling him; it was just too complicated. He had never heard any of the words the man had used, nor did he understand what they were supposed to mean, and now he had to answer the man's questions about his earlier teachings on rifle mechanics.

"What could be a possible cause for misfire?" Weiss asked the question which's answer he had told him earlier, and Tom tried to remember.

"It could be due to the rifle, or the cartridge. Probably because of a primer delay," Tom stammered, hoping this was at least semi accurate.

The man's iron expression showed nothing of what he might be thinking, but Tom guessed it was the right answer or something bad would have happened.

"And what do you do when this happens?" He continued questioning while he began cooking, his back turned to Tom.

"I will wait for 30 seconds before ejecting the cartridge," Tom nodded firmly, he remembered this part very well.

"What could happen if it is indeed a primer delay and you failed to wait 30 seconds?"

This was the reason Tom remembered the answer so well; "It will explode in my face and I'll die."

"What do you know about interior ballistics? How exactly does a rifle work, and what happens when you pull the trigger?" Weiss continued while tossing vegetables into a steaming pot.

Tom winced internally as Weiss turned around, now looking at him expectantly. He remembered this being very long and complicated, and he was certain he would get it wrong. What would Weiss do if he was wrong? Tom swallowed drily, hoping the man would be compassionate towards his mistakes; "The firing pin hits the primer which sparks a flash into the cartridge, igniting the NC powder. The NC burns into gas which raises the pressure inside the cartridge until it is high enough to push the bullet out of the shell and into the forcing cone where the lands and grooves cause it to rotate through the barrel while still being accelerated by the gas from the explosion inside the shell."

Tom was well aware of Weiss' intent eyes studying him carefully as he narrated everything he had remembered about this topic from the past three days, hoping that it was enough to satisfy the man.

"What does NC stand for?" Weiss demanded.

Tom's excitement at having gotten it all right died immediately; he knew that Weiss had told him this, but it had been such a complicated word and he wasn't able to remember; "I don't know," he admitted quietly, feeling a cold shiver run up his spine, and unconsciously pressing against the backrest of the chair, waiting for Weiss' angry reaction.

"Nitrocellulose," Weiss snapped, clearly annoyed that he had to tell him twice. Tom nodded quickly, trying to memorize the impossible word.

"What's the most important thing you need to know about muzzle ballistics?" Weiss continued, turning around to his cooking and making Tom hope that the only consequence to his ineptitude was impatience.

"Barrel oscillations and bullet balloting," Tom replied, not even knowing what either of those things meant. He was determined to read about it once he found the time.

"What are the most important aspects about interior ballistics?"

"Wind, air pressure, temperature," Tom responded slowly, knowing he had forgotten something.

"What else?" Weiss asked impatiently, sending him a warning glace, but Tom just shook his head dejectedly.

"Bullet trajectory," he growled, rolling his eyes before continuing with the questions; "When shooting up or downhill, what's the rule?"

"Always aim below the targeted point," Tom answered immediately.

"Terminal ballistics: what is this, and what are the most important aspects of it?"

"It teaches us what happens upon impact. It includes wound ballistics, and object distractions,"

"What's a common example for an object distraction?"

"Glass from windows, metal from cars, wood from doors," Tom tried to think of other common places that people might hide behind, but these seemed to be most likely ones.

"What do you have to consider when shooting a person inside a car?"

"Due to the target's movement it's best to aim at their chest for a higher chance of impact. Always shoot through the car, not the window, and take into consideration the object barrier, choosing a caliber accordingly," he answered slowly, still not fully having understood the caliber thing.

"What happens when the bullet enters the body?"

The food Weiss was cooking began smelling really good, and Tom had a hard time concentrating on the questions; food always made him giddy. He still wasn't used to eating regularly; it was the best thing ever.

"Upon entering the body, the bullet goes through the narrow channel before turning around, creating the temporary wound cavity, after which it returns back to its original path and created another narrow channel, which often leads to exit wounds." Wound ballistic really interested Tom; it sounded awful and his morbid imagination came up with dozens of people to whom he wished such a fate.

"Why are bullets designed to make a narrow channel before creating a wound cavity?"

"So that if shot at limbs the bullet will not turn around but simply go through. If the bullet would turn around immediately upon impact, it would sever the limb."

"There are bullets specially designed to do this, what do you know of them?"

"Hollow point bullets. They were prohibited in 1899 for warfare because soldiers in war are meant to be killed, not severely injured and then left to bleed to death for hours. However they are still common among police to avoid third-person injuries by shot-through or ricocheting bullets. They are considered to be inhumane," Tom had no idea what he was talking about; he had never even seen a hollow point bullet.

"But we use them sometimes; when and why?"

"When we hate the target," Tom mumbled stupidly, knowing this was not the answer Weiss wanted to hear. For a second he swore he saw a smile ghost across the man's lips before he turned back around to his cooking.

~*~

No matter how much Jörg tried to deny it, he was deeply impressed with the boy's learning abilities. Despite his limited knowledge of the English language, he still managed to remember almost everything he had told him; it had taken Jörg weeks to learn everything the boy had learned in three days. Of course Jörg's education had been a little more relaxed, but still, the boy showed tremendous potential. He was disciplined, concentrated and hard-working; if he managed to keep this up, he could turn into a professional sniper in less than a year's time.

Perhaps he would even be able to attend a school at some point; not that it was necessary, but it couldn't hurt, after all the boy had zero common knowledge.

Jörg had taken it upon himself to teach the boy everything he knew from scratch; of course he knew that it didn't take all of this to become an ordinary hit-man, but if the boy was to become top of the game, he needed to know everything thoroughly. Killing someone wasn't difficult, but doing it over and over without getting killed or caught was a whole other story, and if the boy was to survive for longer than a year, he needed to know what he was doing.

While Jörg waited for the boy's documents to finally be done, he made arrangements to have him transported back home with him; the boy didn't only need a passport to be able to live legally in a more civilized world, but also a birth certificate. Jörg requested this from Brian, giving him his son's form to be copied; he knew that what he was doing was probably a bad idea, but he didn't know how else to proceed with the matter. Fake IDs were no big deal, but a fake birth certificate was a bit more complicated, it needed real people behind it if anyone was to believe this on the long run, so Jörg decided to declare himself as the boy's biological father, and used Simone Kaulitz's name as the boy's mother, effectively making him Bill's twin brother.   
Jörg knew that if Bill ever found out, things would get seriously complicated, but he didn't see much of a choice; he knew that he could never legally adopt the boy, since the boy had no identity. If anyone found out about him he would be taken away by child services and placed up for adoption into a more suitable home. A home with people who would never understand him, or where he came from; a home that was definitely not suitable for that boy at all.

Jörg almost laughed at himself; what was he trying to do, save the boy? He had to think about the differences between Bill and Tom again, and wondered if the boy was far past saving point. Even if he wasn't; even if someone could still save him, why did Jörg want to be that person?

He remembered his relationship with Simone, Bill's mother, back in college in Germany. He had liked her very much, but even then he couldn't be bothered to tell her the truth, effectively ruining the relationship they had. He had often considered it, but it just wasn't worth it; she would have never understood. She was better off not knowing, and Jörg was better off on his own; family life wasn't really his thing. Now she lived with her new partner, Gordon, in some tiny town named Loitsche, together with Bill, whom Jörg hadn't seen since last Christmas.   
He paid alimony just like every other decent father did, and every once in a while dropped by to see him; he didn't want any too close contact to him because he was afraid to be a bad influence on him. It almost made him feel guilty that he adopted another kid that he barely even knew, instead of taking care of his own son. On the other hand, it was better for Bill, that way he could lead a happy, carefree life with his parents, unknowing of all the misery in the world; the misery that was normal for Tom.

The following four days passed quickly with Jörg trying to pamper the boy back to health while the kid learned to read and write with surprising ease; by the end of the week he could read quite well, and his writing had increased both in appearance and content. Jörg was more than satisfied with the outcome of things. The next step was for him to get a bit more active; the boy had the physical condition of a ninety year old.

~*~

Tom fell down on the couch with a soft groan; he was completely exhausted. It had been eight days since he had first come to see Weiss; in the first seven days Weiss had been satisfied with him learning only the theory, but on the eighth day he said they would start with actual training, and apparently before Tom could do anything else, he needed a better physical condition, so Weiss had taken him jogging with him, the way the man did almost every morning. However after less than twenty minutes, Tom thought he would pass out; he was in absolutely no shape for something like that, but he had kept running after the man who had barely warmed up and just sent him an angry glare when he began falling behind.

It was only 11:30 am, and already Tom was ready to fall asleep. Sadly Weiss had other plans.

A heavy book fell down on the couch, only missing his head by an inch; "Stop being so lazy, you've got studying to do," Weiss snapped in his usual, irritated fashion.

Quickly, Tom pulled himself back up, not wanting Weiss to know how exhausting that run had been for him. He grabbed the book and opened it to the page where he'd been reading; it was a book about cartridge reloading. Weiss said that all good hit-man made their own ammunition; that way it was more precise because the shells were fire-formed exactly to the weapon of their choice. Apparently Tom was going to learn this to familiarize himself with bullets and how exactly they worked.

~*~

Jörg gave the kid on the couch a wary glance before closing the door to his bedroom; the kid looked positively beat. He knew he had pushed him a bit too far today, even though the boy hadn't said a single word about it. His physical condition was terrible, not only due to lack of training, but also because of his severely bad nutrition. Jörg began to wonder if the boy was ill; there was a very high chance that the boy had various STDs, which would of course worsen his physical condition even further. Jörg tried to think of all the STDs he knew; the one that worried him the most was, of course, HIV. What if the boy had it?   
He hadn't even thought about it before, but now that he did, the thought scared him a lot; he would take him to see his doctor as soon as they were back home. Until then he would reduce the physical training to a minimum, but not leave it out completely because even if the boy would turn out to be ill, physical condition was important no matter what.

Thinking about health made Jörg consider all the other aspects of it; nutrition had always been very important to him, knowing it played a key part in his physical condition, and he was actually quite knowledgeable in the field; once back at home he would make sure to set up a strict diet for the kid that would hopefully improve his condition on the long run. The boy probably had all sorts of deficits from lack of... everything. It showed on his abnormally pale, dry skin, his thin hair and cracked fingernails; the boy was lacking pretty much every vitamin and mineral there was. 

The ringing of the phone startled Jörg a little, pulling him away from the thoughts revolving around the boy on his couch.

The call was from Brian, telling him that the documents were ready to be picked up.

As Jörg exited the room to drive over to Brian's, he saw the boy lying motionless on the couch, head resting on the book he was supposed to be reading. For a moment he considered letting the poor boy sleep, but decided against it since it was probably a bad habit to let the boy sleep during the day.

With an unnecessarily hard shove, he startled the boy out of his peaceful slumber; "I know you're useless, but at least try to pretend you're good for something while I'm around," he snarled at the flinching boy, wondering again what compelled him to say something like that.

The boy muttered a soft apology and returned to studying again while Jörg slipped his shoes on and grabbed both his rifle cases before leaving the apartment.

When he arrived at Brian's place, the man handed him the envelope containing the documents, and took Jörg's rifles down to the basement where he stored them until Jörg's return to Iran. 

"Thanks a lot, mate," Jörg shook his friend's hand.

"Take care of that poor kid, and don't do anything stupid," Brian grinned as he led him out the door. Jörg wasn't sure what Brian meant, but he nodded and smiled as he got into his car and drove off.

The boy obviously noticed the absence of rifles in the apartment, but refrained from saying anything; he never said anything unless Jörg addressed him directly. Even though he had been here quite a few days, he hadn't said anything by his own accord other than on the first day when he had said he needed to go to the bathroom and Jörg had bitched at him for it; something he really regretted doing.   
The boy didn't ask anything either, he just answered Jörg's education-related questions, but other than that didn't utter a single word. At first Jörg had believed the boy would warm up to him, but now he was quite certain that wasn't the case, and maybe it was better that way; if the boy began to believe they were friends, things would get complicated. It was easier to just keep it formal; as long as the kid was afraid of him, Jörg was certain he would do as he was told and not give him any trouble. Harshly, Jörg shoved the annoying feeling out of his gut that was telling him that he didn't want the boy to be scare of him.

During dinner, Jörg decided to test him on the things he had read that afternoon; the awkward silence was killing him.

"What equipment do you need for reloading?" He wanted the boy to learn about this because it was useful to him; reloading was time consuming and if the kid got good at it, maybe he would be able to help him there.

The boy quickly swallowed before answering; "Bullets, a reloading press, primers, brass shells, a die-set, a powder scale, a powder trickler... and powder..." the kid finished with a soft nod.

"And which brands do we use?" Everything the boy had said had been correct, but if he was going to be of any use to him, he needed to know the details of what exactly Jörg used at home; he had told the kid a few days ago, and knew the boy wouldn't be able to remember.

The boy was still looking at him, something Jörg had come to love; every time he spoke to the boy, he paid close attention and didn't look away until Jörg dismissed him; "Berger bullets, benchrest large-rifle primers, Norma brass, RCBS die-set, Vihtavuori powder N hundred and..."Obviously he had forgotten the full number.

Jörg was more than impressed; the kid had only heard those names once before but memorized them correctly anyway. The only thing he was missing was one little number; "N140," he reminded the kid coldly.

The boy nodded quickly, giving him that same fearful look he always had whenever he made a mistake somewhere; did he really think Jörg would hurt him for forgetting something? On some sick level Jörg enjoyed the boy's behavior, even though he didn't know why; did he have some weird suppressed desire to have power over someone?

He knew enough about psychology to know that his choice of career probably had something to do with the fact that his father had been an abusive drunk and Jörg hadn't been able to defend himself against him until he was a teenager, but he had never thought that it also drove him to behave the way he did now. Contrary to popular belief, Jörg wasn't violent in any meaning of the word; of course that didn't mean he was a Good Samaritan, but generally he didn't hurt someone unless it was necessary, and even then it wasn't something he enjoyed or took pride in, it was just a job. A job in which he was in control of the situation; a job where it was up to him to decide whether the other person lived or died.

With a sigh he got up from the table; what was happening to him?

~*~

Just like every evening, Tom washed the dishes before going to sleep. Despite Weiss not having instructed him to do so, Tom had taken it on himself to clean the house, do the laundry, wash the dishes and take the trash out; he knew that Weiss didn't have to do all this for him, and wanted to show the man that he was at least a little bit useful, not to mention grateful. No matter how many times Tom planned to thank him for what he was doing, he couldn't get himself to show the man some gratitude; no matter how generous Weiss was, Tom hadn't forgotten the first time they met. He was still a bit scared that he would change his mind, either about keeping him altogether or about the whole not wanting to have sex with someone like him; he hoped if he was able to do at least a few things to please the man, he would let him stay without asking for something that Tom really didn't want to give him.

Weiss had shown him how house chores were done as soon as he realized that Tom was willing to do them, and said the only thing Tom wasn't allowed to do was cook, which was fine by him because Tom had never cooked a single thing in his life and it seemed a lot more complicated than cleaning; he did, however, really enjoy watching Weiss cook. The food he made was great, and Tom silently wished that someday he would be able to cook like that, so he paid close attention, hoping to learn something. 

Once the kitchen was spotless, Tom sagged into the couch; his muscles felt like jelly and his eyelids were so heavy he forgot all about the brushing teeth thing he had to do every day. He fell asleep before he thought of the dire consequences disobedience had, or before removing his shoes or crawling under the covers; he was just too exhausted.


	5. Chapter 5

Groggily, Tom opened his eyes at the shuffling noise that had woken him. It was Weiss, dragging a few bags across the living room towards the door.

As Tom sat up, he looked over at him and pointed to an empty bag on the floor next to the couch; "Put your stuff in here, and stop dawdling."

Tom quickly jumped up and began stuffing the few clothes he had into the bag, completely confused; where they going somewhere? Is that why Weiss had taken his rifles away yesterday?

Thankfully he was still dressed from the night before, so he was ready to leave in five minutes. Unlike Weiss who was still walking up and down the apartment, gathering all his things. Tom watched awkwardly, wondering if he should try to help him; probably not.

After a few more minutes Weiss was done, and strode into the living rode; "You forgot this," he snapped, tossing the toothbrush Tom had forgotten in the bathroom, before opening the door and motioning for Tom to move out.

Not daring to ask where they were going, Tom silently followed Weiss to the parking lot, towards a cab that was waiting for them; Weiss' car was nowhere in sight.

With the help from the driver, Weiss placed his four bags in the trunk before getting into the passenger seat and slamming the door; was he expecting Tom to get into the car as well, or was he just going to leave him there?

Tom's heart raced nervously as he began to consider the fact that maybe Weiss was leaving and had no intention to take him with him; but what about the whole passport thing, hadn't Weiss said that he wanted to take him along? Maybe Weiss had changed his mind because Tom had slept on his couch with his shoes on and hadn't brushed his teeth last night?

Not knowing what to do, Tom just stood there, watching as the driver got into his seat and closed the door. He watched the cab in silence for a while, waiting for it to drive off, but it didn't; it just stood there until Weiss' door opened and he stared angrily at Tom.

"Get into the goddamn car, you dimwitted runt!" he nearly yelled, causing Tom's stomach to flutter with happiness at not being left behind on his own. Quickly he scuttled to the cab and got in, sitting behind Weiss. The car set into motion almost before he closed the door.

They drove in silence for quite some time, Tom wondering all the while where they were headed; probably far since they had taken all their belongings. He barely dared to hope that they would finally leave the country.

His hope was confirmed as they approached the Konarak airport in Chabahar. Tom swallowed his excitement; were they really going to fly somewhere?

Weiss paid the cab once all their luggage was on the sidewalk, and then they walked into the small building, Tom staring around with wide eyes. There wasn't much to see; a few small planes outside, and a few civilians among mostly military personnel. Dragging two of the heavy bags, Tom had to hurry to keep up with Weiss as they headed towards the luggage check-in.

Tom marveled at the awesomeness of the planes outside while Weiss checked in for them. He had been on a plane once before, but he had been locked in a cage with a few other children in the back of a freight plane, and hadn't really seen much of the journey from Japan to Iran. He was really looking forward to flying, it looked so great.

"Move it!" Weiss snarled angrily, pulling Tom out of his daydreams. He followed Weiss to a counter where a woman took their tickets and smiled at them while motioning for them to pass through the gate.

It didn't take too long before they could start boarding the small plane, and Tom tried to contain his excitement as they walked up the steps to the aircraft. The lady at the door indicated them their seats, and Tom couldn't stop but grin at the fact that he had a window seat.

~*~

Jörg placed their hand luggage in the designated compartment before sliding into the seat next to the kid who was staring out the window with huge eyes, his nose pressed against the window. Jörg caught himself smiling at the sight; he knew getting a window seat for the kid had been a good idea.

After the usual announcements, the plane was finally ready for takeoff, and Jörg smiled in amusement as the boy nearly jumped up and down in the seat next to him as they rose higher into the air. He watching in fascination at the bright smile on the boy's lips that he was probably not even aware of; it made him look innocent and childlike, completely betraying the broken boy Jörg knew him to be. He had never seen him smile, not even close; it took his breath away.

Confused, Jörg tore his eyes from the boy's bright smile, trying to convince himself that the boy was just a dumb little kid who was so easily entertained by silly things such as flying, and focused on his hands, trying to block out any unwanted thoughts or feelings.

The next hour and a half passed in silence while Jörg tried very hard not to look at the boy next to him, and hoped desperately that they would arrive in Bandar Abbas soon.

~*~

To Tom's great disappointment, they were still in Iran after the flight; where they going to stay here?

Apparently not, Tom concluded as he followed Weiss through large crowds of people, trying not to lose the man; thankfully Weiss was very tall, not to mention white, and easy to spot in a large crowd. They waited in a line where people placed all their things on a conveyor belt and then stepped through a weird gate before getting all their things back on the other side.

Tom glanced up at Weiss in confusion.

"Put your bag there," Weiss pointed to the plastic conveyor, and Tom did as he was told.

"Now walk ahead and wait until the man indicates you can pass, then take your stuff and wait for me," he instructed.

Nervously, Tom walked through the unusual gate and looked at the man standing on the other side; he was armed and looked like some kind of policeman. Tom was scared of him, but the man smiled warmly at him, waving at him to keep moving.

Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Tom grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, waiting while Weiss walked through the gates, took his luggage and then joined him.

Tom sent Weiss a questioning look, not daring to ask what was going on. Apparently Weiss took pity on his confusion.

"It's a security check. They check for metal objects such as knives or guns, or other things that could hurt people," he explained, almost patiently. His patience drove Tom to do something he hated doing: asking things. It was always dangerous and people always hurt him whenever he did, but Weiss seemed to be in a good mood, maybe it would be ok; just this one time.

"Why?" He asked quietly, hoping his nosiness wouldn't bother Weiss too much.

"Because they don't want anyone to die on that plane," he replied, still patient, and Tom almost thought he saw amusement in his eyes.

"Couldn't you just kill them without a gun or a knife though?" Tom was pretty sure Weiss was capable of doing this. The short, unusual laugh from Weiss startled Tom a little, and he took an instinctive step back; when someone laughed it usually meant they were about to hurt someone. 

"Yeah, don't ever say that again. Especially not in an airport. Or bank. Or anywhere, really," he said quietly, apparently not wanting other people to hear him. By the smile playing on the man's lips Tom thought that maybe the laugh earlier had been friendly; it was an unusual sound, Tom decided. He had never heard anyone laughing in a friendly way before. He nodded quickly, making sure to remember not talking about killing people in public again.

They reached gate F27, and waited in a room filled with people. Various of them were white, and most looked at Tom awkwardly, making him self-conscious. He pulled his hoody over his head, not welcoming the attention at all. He knew why they looked at him; the scars on his face made him weird and people were freaked out by him.

They waited until a woman's voice could be heard speaking in English; "First class passengers please begin boarding."

Various people got up and began heading towards the lady behind the counter who checked their tickets and passports. Weiss also got up, Tom immediately following him, not wanting to be told to hurry again.

They walked down the closed gangway that led them directly inside the plane where Tom gawked around in amazement at the giant plane. A lady indicated where they were sitting, and Tom was delighted to find that he had another window seat. Weiss put their luggage in the overhead compartment, and then sat down next to him just like in the other plane.

It took a lot longer for all the other passengers to board than it had on the small plane, but eventually they set into motion, slowly rolling around on the large runway while one of the ladies from the crew told them the safety precautions. Tom paid close attention, really not wanting to die now that his life was finally starting to look better. He glanced at Weiss, wanting to make sure that he was also paying attention, but Weiss was picking at his fingernails, obviously not caring at all about what the woman was saying. Tom was slightly annoyed; Weiss led such a dangerous life, it would be really sad if he would die in a plane accident.

Idly Tom wondered why he even cared if Weiss died or not. He decided it was because without Weiss, he wouldn't be able to survive. At that moment Tom decided to become independent at some point in his life; his goal would be to finally be able to take care of himself, without needing anyone. He wanted to be alone, without depending on anyone; without belonging to anyone.

Finally the plane began to take off, and Tom watched as the houses and cars on the ground slowly began getting smaller and smaller, until they were too far away to be seen. He loved flying so much; it was the most amazing thing he had ever done. It was so awesome that for a short while he even forgot how much he hated the man sitting next to him; after all he was the one who had made it all possible.

~*~

Jörg reclined his seat and stretched his legs out in front of him; first class was awesome like that. He wasn't a big fan of flying; it was countless hours being trapped in a plane with people he didn't like, with absolutely nothing to do but hope that sleep would come. At least until someone was noisy and woke him again. But at least first class was tolerable. Hardly any kids that got in his nerves, and lots of space.

He glanced over at the kid next to him; he was different than all the others, obviously. Jörg hated kids; the mere sight gave him a migraine, but this one kid... well that was something else. He wasn't loud, obnoxious, immature and retarded like most others. No, this kid was something else; he had a whole category all to himself that Jörg had no name for.

For the next few hours Jörg sat in silence, thinking of all the things he had to do once he was back home, every once in a while glancing over at the boy with the soft smile still on his lips who did nothing but stare out at an ocean of clouds. For once he didn't look scared or troubled; he actually looked like a kid having a good time. A very quiet kid, but a kid none the less.

When the stewardess began serving their lunch, the boy looked away from the window for the first time. He knew how important food was for the kid; he didn't miss the way he stared at everything that was edible, and no matter how much food Jörg prepared, the kid ended up eating it all.

"Chicken, beef or vegetarian?" The stewardess asked once she reached their seats. Jörg looked at Tom, waiting for him to place his order.

The boy looked back and forth between Jörg and the stewardess, obviously very nervous.

"W-what?" he finally stammered in confusion, his face slightly pale. It took Jörg a moment to realize what the boy's confusion was about: he had no idea what any of those things meant.

"Chicken and beef are a type of meat, and vegetarian is food without meat," he explained, receiving a very weird look from the stewardess.

"Oh," the boy nodded quickly; "Vegetarian, please," he mumbled softly, taking the tray that the smiling stewardess handed him.

Jörg went with vegetarian as well. He did eat meat, but rather scarcely, and meat on airplanes disgusted him. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't prepared meat a single time since the kid had shown up; did he not like meat?

Again, Jörg wondered why he even cared what the kid liked to eat or not; he was going to cook the way he had always cooked, and the boy could either eat it or starve. Somewhere in the back of his mind Jörg knew he wouldn't do that; he would take Tom's preference into consideration, for reasons he couldn't explain.

"What would you like to drink, sir?" The next stewardess asked as she halted in front of them.

The boy looked up from his food, having been completely wrapped up in eating. He looked at all the bottles on the cart before sending Jörg another unsure look.

"He'll have apple juice. And for me mineral water, none sparkling, please," Jörg decided to order, knowing the kid couldn't say anything because he had no idea what any of the drinks tasted like. Well except for the coke; Jörg smiled into his plastic cup, making sure the boy wasn't paying attention as he recalled the funny memory of the poor kid nearly choking on it. As he carefully glanced over at the boy, he saw that he was sticking his tongue into the juice; what the hell? He put the tongue back into his mouth, apparently satisfied with the test, and then took a very careful sip; obviously he hadn't forgotten the coke incident either. Jörg had to suppress a chuckle.

~*~

Tom decided he loved apple juice; it was the best thing he had ever tasted. Over the next few hours, he ordered another nine cups of the delicious stuff; thankfully Weiss seemed to be asleep and wasn't bothered by Tom's drinking. The only downside was that now he had to pee; did airplanes have toilets? Tom wondered uncomfortably. And of course there was also the problem that Weiss was sitting on the aisle seat, blocking Tom from going to any toilets the plane may, or may not have.

Without knowing what else to do, he called the nice lady in the blue dress again; she had been really kind to him, so maybe she could help him.

"Another juice, sir?" she smiled and whispered, obviously not wanting to wake Weiss; maybe she also knew how scary the man could be when disturbed.

Tom shook his head; "I need to use the toilet," he whispered back, feeling himself blush a bit from the embarrassment at having to ask her, but she just smiled her patient smile again.

"It's right down there," she pointed towards the curtains in the front of the plane.

"Thank you very much," Tom answered politely and she walked away with another smile, leaving Tom with the dilemma that Weiss was still sitting there, fast asleep. What was he going to do? Should he wait? But what if he slept for a really long time? Crawl over him? But what if he woke up and got super mad? Tom sighed softly; he didn't really have much of a choice but to either wake him, or crawl over him.

Carefully he unbuckled his seatbelt and got up, wondering what the best method would be to climb over Weiss without waking him. Very slowly, Tom stepped over Weiss' left leg, first with his left leg and then with his right, so he was standing in between the man's legs, before carefully doing the same thing again, stepping over Weiss' right leg this time, successfully ending in the aisle without having woken him. With a relieved sigh, Tom walked to the toilet, already fearing his return when he had to do the same thing again to get back in.

After his visit to the toilet, Tom got himself another glass of juice; the last one, he promised himself, and returned to his seat. Weiss hadn't moved an inch, and so Tom did the same procedure all over again to get back in. Again with success. Triumphantly, Tom sat back down and buckled his seatbelt.

"If you want to get out, just tell me. Don't crawl over me," Weiss' cold voice startled Tom and he stared over at the man who still hadn't moved; eyes still closed as if asleep. 

Tom buried his face in his hands, thankful that the man didn't look at him; if he had been awake the whole time, why hadn't he just said so?!

"I thought you were sleeping," Tom mumbled apologetically.

"How the hell am I supposed to sleep with you calling the stewardess for apple juice every ten seconds?!" he snapped acidly, causing Tom to edge away from his seat as much as he could.

"I-I'm sorry," he apologized hurriedly, glancing up at the man again, but there was no reaction whatsoever.

After watching a breathtaking sunset, that Weiss obviously couldn't care less about, Tom drifted off to sleep, his dreams firmly wrapped around apple juice and oceans of fluffy clouds.

Hours later, Tom was woken up by the lights coming on and the voice over the intercom announcing their close arrival. By now Tom knew that wherever they were, it was very far away from Iran.

All around them people began getting noisy again, chatting and buckling their seatbelts like the light above them indicated. Next to him Weiss yawned, not bothering to open his eyes. Underneath them Tom could see an ocean of lights in the darkness; it looked unlike anything he had ever seen. Like a million fireflies in a dark night.

Soon enough he saw the runway that was brightened by lights, and a few moments later, the plane gently landed on the ground.

"Welcome to the United States of America, ladies and gentleman, we thank you for flying with American Airlines and wish you a pleasant evening."

Tom felt his stomach twisting with excitement; United States of America? He knew what this place was, he'd heard of it countless times; he'd even seen a picture of it once.

He glanced over at Weiss who had finally decided to open his eyes, and gave him a wide eyed stare; Weiss just raised an eyebrow at him; "What?" he asked lazily.

"We're in America?" Tom whispered excitedly, trying to remain calm; he didn't want to pester Weiss with questions, but he just couldn't help himself right now. Weiss just nodded, scratching his head, and then rubbing his neck sleepily.

"Can we go see the Statue of Liberty?" he knew how annoying he was being, and half expected Weiss to just hit him across the face.

"Hell no, forget it," Weiss grunted moodily. Tom nodded, feeling all excitement leave him; he wouldn't be able to see it. He had seen a picture of it a few years ago in a magazine or something; someone had told him that it was meant to be a symbol for freedom, and Tom had fallen in love with it at first sight. It was one of the few things he wanted to do before dying: see Lady Liberty; well, there were probably other things too, but none that he knew of yet.

It took them another near two hours until they had finally gone through security again, and were able to retrieve their luggage.

Tom stalked after Weiss, trying not to lose him while staring around at all the amazing, colorful things at the airport; it was so different from everything he had ever seen in his life.

"Hurry up, kid!" Weiss called irritated when Tom had paused to stare at a large screen that displayed a few unusual looking cars driving around; they were really flat and only had space for one driver.

Tom quickly followed Weiss out of the large building and into the cool morning air; the sun was just about to rise. Weiss walked towards a cab, and placed their stuff in the trunk again, just the way he had done so many hours ago back in Iran.

Tom watched the cars, people and gigantic buildings rushing by as they drove through the streets; everything looked beautiful and clean. Nothing was covered in trash or dirt the way it had been in Iran, and the houses all looked fancy and modern.

They drove into a large street with various car lanes, and eventually the buildings began to thin out, until they were driving through an unbelievable country scenery with the occasional city thrown in here and there. The landscape was green, and looked fresh and alive, unlike Chabahar which had been mostly dead soil; Tom had hated it. In the distance he could see mountains with white tips, but didn't dare ask Weiss why they were white like that.

After a good hour, they finally got off the large street and drove down into a much smaller one that barely had any cars in comparison. They passed another few towns; in one of them the car took a left turn into a small road that didn't seem to host any cars at all. Tom hoped they would arrive soon; he loved this place. It was covered by trees and he had even seen a small river somewhere; could it be that Weiss really lived here?

They took another turn into a small road that had wooden fences on both sides. Behind the fences there were vast plains of green grass that reached all the way to a forest that surrounded the large meadow. The car drove through a wooden arch that read 'White Ranch'; what was that supposed to mean? Tom had no idea what a ranch was.

At the end of the road they came to stop in front of a house that stood practically in the middle of nowhere. It was surrounded by the large plains that reached back all the way they had just driven, with a forest somewhere far behind it. For Tom it looked like a fantasy picture; something that couldn't actually be real.

Weiss got out of the car, and the driver helped them with their luggage before Weiss paid him, and the man drove off again, leaving Tom to stare at the house.

"Make yourself useful and help me with this," Weiss snapped at him; Tom nodded, shaking the amazement from his head.

As they walked up to the house, the door opened and a young woman came out; "Good day, mister Weiss, welcome back," she said politely, helping Weiss with the luggage.

Tom paused at the door for a second before following the other two people inside. Just like on the outside, the inside was wood, making it look cozy and warm, and completely unWeiss like; why did such a nasty man have such a nice, welcoming home? Was this even Weiss' home? Tom really couldn't imagine him living in a place like this. He had expected Weiss' home to be some dark, cold warehouse that hosted all sorts of torture devices, or something.

"Yes, I set everything the way you requested," the woman smiled as she went to the door.

"Great, I'll call you next time I'm out. A few weeks at the most," he nodded.

"Alright, good day!" she called, already outside the door; Weiss just nodded, closing the door behind her.

Tom stood there, not knowing what to do, like always. Weiss sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Put these on," he finally instructed, handing him a pair of slippers; "Don't ever wear shoes on my wooden floor, got it?" he asked warningly.

Tom nodded as he put the slippers on that were much too big for him.

"Come on," Weiss motioned for him to follow, and they walked up the wooden stairs to the next floor, Tom clutching the bag that was still strapped over his shoulder.

It looked similar to downstairs; everything was wooden, with a few random decorations here and there. There were four doors upstairs, two on the opposite side of the stairs, one next to it, and one a little further in the back. Weiss opened the door next to the stairs, and walked in, apparently expecting Tom to follow, but Tom didn't want to; there could be anything in that room. Warily he looked through the door, but found that it was only a bedroom. A very nice one. With dark red curtains, a fluffy carpet, a bed, desk and a closet. All made of wood. Tom stared around in awe, until the uncertainty of the situation hit him; why was Weiss taking him to his bedroom?!

"Anyway," Weiss began before Tom could freak out fully; "Natalie bought clothes and stuff for you, you should find them in your closet or something," he shrugged, looking around the room.

"M-my closet?" Tom stuttered, not fully comprehending what the man was trying to say.

"Yeah," Weiss gestured at the closet with his head; "I'm going to make lunch. Get settled in, we have a lot of work to do."

Tom stared after him, his mind not able to wrap itself around what had just happened; was Weiss trying to say that this room was Tom's? All for him? His own room with a lock at the door? And even an actual bed? Not that Tom didn't view the couch as a bed, but still... a bed was definitely an upgrade. Perhaps he should ask Weiss, just to be sure that this wasn't Weiss' bedroom; because if it was, it was the last place Tom wanted to be in.

Slowly he walked over to the closet, looking back at the door to make sure Weiss wasn't there, and then opened it. It wasn't very full, but contained various clothing articles which were definitely not Weiss', judging by the size of them. He looked into the drawers; also filled with clothes.

After thoroughly inspecting the closet, Tom moved over to the desk; it contained notebooks and pens in various shapes, sizes and colors.

"Get down here!" Weiss yelled from downstairs, and Tom followed the delicious smell of food.

As he entered the kitchen and sat down at the table set for the both of them, Tom was certain that no matter how awful Weiss might be, he was the best thing that would ever happen in his life.


	6. Chapter 6

"Go upstairs and read this," Jörg instructed the boy, handing him a book. He needed time to unpack and get settled in, not to mention prepare something for the boy to do; he had absolutely no idea what the boy was meant to be do doing here the whole time.  
He had nothing that was child suitable; his house contained nothing to entertain children, and of course there were a million things he wanted to teach him, but it wasn't exactly like his house was a school library either; Jörg owned no educational books for children, or anything else that might be of any use to the boy, so for now he had to keep him busy with reading material designed for a more mature audience.

Once he heard the boy's door lock, he grabbed the phone to call Natalie. Natalie was a single mother of two children who worked the night shift in a bar, but was always looking for small jobs to earn a bit of extra cash. She would occasionally work for Jörg in the house or garden when he needed it and house-sit for him when he was away for longer periods of time.

He had told her that Tom was his son, who up until now had lived in Germany with Simone, but due to a terrible car accidental had been left emotionally and physically scarred, and Simone couldn't take care of him on her own anymore, so he had jumped in to help her. Natalie had been a bit surprised to find out that Jörg had another son, but then again, Jörg had never really spoken much of his life to her, so in the end it made no difference. Of course sooner or later she would realize that there was something wrong with the boy, but Jörg didn't have any other options; maybe he could bribe her into silence or something.

"Hello?" the woman's voice answered her phone.

"Hey, it's Jörg. I was wondering if you're currently busy in the afternoons or evenings?"

"Hey! No I'm not, what would you need?" she asked, always grateful when Jörg asked her to do something for him.

"I need you to tutor Tom. It doesn't really matter when, whenever you have time is good. He needs basic education in pretty much every school subject, and I'm not sure I'm very qualified to teach him. Could you help me out with that? Say about... 2-4 hours a day, if that's possible for you?" Jörg had no idea how much time something like that usually required, but he also needed to teach the boy a lot of things that Natalie was not meant to be involved in.

"Yeah of course, I'd love to. Do you have studying material for him?"

Of course he didn't.

"Actually I was hoping maybe you could buy some? Whatever stuff your kids use in school would be fine, I'm sure. It doesn't matter what it costs, just buy whatever you think is best, and let me know," Jörg had absolutely no idea what kids were using in school these days; he barely remembered his own school days, and teaching wasn't really a strength of his either - he just didn't have the patience.

"Alright, I'll go to the bookstore first thing tomorrow. All subjects? For which grade?" she was apparently writing this down.

"Er... first to...seventh? I don't know, maybe just get the first few grades and see how he's doing? Yes, all subjects," Jörg nodded slowly; the boy probably needed to start at the very beginning of things.

"First grade? Isn't he like... 12 or something?" Natalie asked a bit surprised.

"Yes, but who knows what they were learning in Germany, plus he missed a lot of school so he might be really far behind..." Jörg obviously hadn't thought this very well through; "Maybe leave out the not so important things and focus on Math, Biology and English. The rest are just... for him to read in his spare time. Maybe Chemistry would be good as well... History is also good," Jörg sighed; everything would be good for the boy who knew nothing at all.

"Okay," Natalie answered slowly while she scribbled it all down; "Are you going to enroll him in Manitou Springs?"

Manitou Springs was the closest school to where they lived, and Jörg had thought about it but was pretty sure it wasn't possible at the moment; perhaps later once the boy caught up a bit. "Maybe once he's a bit more adjusted, for now he's just going to stay home. I enrolled him in a home-schooling program," he lied; it's not like he could just tell her that the boy was living under the radar.

Oh, alright. Should I also get an English-German dictionary, or do you have one?"

"No, I have one, don't worry," Jörg lied again; a German dictionary wouldn't help the boy since he didn't speak a single word in that language.

"Great, shall I come by tomorrow evening then so we can get started?" she asked enthusiastically.

"Yeah, whenever you have time is good. Just give me a quick call to make sure we're home." Not that Jörg thought they wouldn't be home, but he didn't want Natalie to waltz in while the boy was playing around with rifles and ammunition; that might not come across so well with a mother.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Natalie bid him farewell.

"Yeah, tomorrow," Jörg muttered, hanging up the phone. Even though Natalie had been working for him for various years, she obviously wasn't meant to know what his real job was; she believed he was a truck driver which was why he was away from home for various weeks at a time. She knew he was a bit if a weapons enthusiast since that was hard to hide, but she thought he only shot at paper targets. But how was he going to keep the truth from Natalie now? Sooner or later she would realize that Tom had never gone to school, and that he was not related to Jörg at all. Hopefully she wouldn't take it too hard; Jörg liked her, and really didn't want to have to kill her.

 

Jörg spent the rest of the afternoon putting his things away, before deciding to make dinner at around 6 o'clock. As he stood in the kitchen he wondered what he should make with the things Natalie had gotten from the farmer that lived down the road; plenty of vegetables and chicken. Would Tom like chicken? If he didn't, Jörg would have to come up with some other way to feed him proteins; a purely vegetarian diet would be difficult with the malnutrition the boy had.

Jörg decided to go with steamed endives salad, quinoa and softly fried chicken stripes; he decided to boil two eggs too, just in case the boy didn't want the chicken. Yeah, that seemed safe.

While he waited for the quinoa to be ready, Jörg busied himself with soaking white dry beans; if Tom really didn't want to eat meat, eggs and white beans were probably the best proteins he could give him. Eating very little meat himself, Jörg thankfully knew how to supplement meat.

~*~

Tom sat at his desk reading the book Weiss had given him; _One Shot One Kill_. It was about a combat sniper, and Tom found himself fascinated by it; he wanted to be able to do things like these. He wanted to be as patient, accurate and perfect as the man in the book. He also wanted to be able to kill with just one shot.

All too soon he heard Weiss calling him for dinner; he hadn't even finished half the story. With a sigh, Tom left the book on the desk and went downstairs with the unusual sensation that there was something he'd rather be doing than eating right now; that was definitely something new. The feeling only lasted until the smell of food reached him, and he completely forgot about the book he'd been reading; there wasn't anything better than food in the world.

The table was already set, with the food standing on the oven where Weiss was filling his plate with it. By now Tom knew he was allowed to just take any food that was standing at the stove without having to fear any consequences because Weiss was very generous with food, and Tom was allowed to eat as much as he wanted. By now he was almost used to only eating until he was full, and not stuffing himself until he had to throw up.

He grabbed his plate, waiting for the man to clear the stove, and then eyed the pans and pots there. He helped himself to the green stuff and the grains that looked a bit like yellow rice; Tom had never seen them before, but he was open-minded. He took an egg from the pot as well, avoiding the pan that contained the fried meat. Tom hated meat. He had tried it a few times out of trash cans, but it always ended up making him sick, and the mere sight of it was enough to make him gag.

The soft green stuff had a slightly bitter taste, and Tom discovered that he really enjoyed bitter things. The food was laced with chili, giving it a soft, spicy touch; Tom loved it.

"Natalie will come over tomorrow. She will teach you everything that I can't be bothered to," Weiss' cold voice broke the silence of their dinner, pulling Tom out of the happy place he had just been in.

Tom got a little nervous, but also very excited; Natalie was going to be his teacher? Tom was already quite good at reading, and his writing was improving as well, so what was she going to be teaching him? Maybe some better English. Tom tried to think of all the things people knew; he knew that he knew nothing in comparison to everyone else. He had always lived so isolated, without anyone telling him anything, so the thought of having someone who would answer all his questions was absolutely thrilling to him.  
He really wanted to learn things because learning had always been forbidden to him, and Natalie seemed very nice. There was also the fact that she was a woman, so Tom automatically trusted her more. He didn't know any women at all, and none had ever harmed him in any way; they were so much better than men.

"You will do everything she tells you even if you are bored, understood?" Weiss continued. Tom nodded enthusiastically, not believing that he would ever get bored.

"Next week we will begin with your training. First you're going to learn how to reload, so you'll at least be useful for something," the man continued acidly, killing any enthusiasm Tom had felt earlier; he knew that he was useless to the man, and still couldn't explain why he even kept him around.

"And then we will begin shooting with small bore, see how you do with it. Given the fact that you're clumsy and completely incompetent when it comes to absolutely everything, I'm not expecting you to actually hit anything, of course," he chuckled coolly. Tom looked down at his plate, not wanting to see the man's cruel smile.

"We'll begin mental training on the same day, and you will do this training parallel to the rest, no matter how much you might hate it," he sent him a warning glance, and Tom swallowed, fearing any consequence the man might have prepared should he disobey.

"Mental training is just as important as physical one because it will teach you how to relax your body consciously. It will teach you how to control your pulse and heartbeat, which is very important if you intend to have a steady hand. You will learn how to enter your own 'flow'. 'Flow' means tunnel vision: you are not going to see, hear or feel anything other than your target, your body and your rifle. All else is irrelevant. You will do this training together with me at 6am, every day. Yes, also on Sundays, Easter and Christmas, and even on your birthday," he finished with a sneer.

Tom didn't really mind; he was used to getting up early.

"Your cardio training will be at least six times a week, for at least two hours, and you will keep a steady schedule of dry runs, even long after you begin shooting big bore; which won't happen for another year at the very least, unless you turn out to be a natural. But given we're talking about you, that's doubtful," he laughed quietly; "Your cardio training will consist of running and swimming; do you know how to swim?"

Tom shook his head.

"Of course you don't, why am I asking," Weiss rolled his eyes; "Well you're going to learn it, and swim regularly. You will train together with me and apart to my schedule."

Tom just nodded, trying to keep track of everything the man was saying; it was way too much for him, he would never be able to learn all that.

"Once you're semi-decent with a small bore, we'll do a fun shooting with big bore so you can get used to the recoil."

Fun shooting? Tom really liked the sound of that; he couldn't wait to actually be able to shoot. And kill people. Preferably Soroush.

"After you get acquainted with big bore we will begin training with accord to wind and weather. Once you are able to shoot at least 590 rings, we'll find your first target. But that's a long time from now," he finally finished, getting up and dumping his dishes in the sink.

Tom just blinked, having no idea what the other man was talking about. The only thing he knew was that it would be a long road before he could actually become a hit-man.

Weiss left the kitchen, and after Tom was done with his dinner he began to clean up. He placed what was left of the disgusting chicken in a plastic bag and put it in the fridge; why Weiss chose to eat something like this was beyond Tom. The man seemed rather decent in every other aspect, why would he eat dead stuff? It was disgusting. Although there was also the fact that he had raped Tom; that wasn't really all that decent either. Tom decided he still hated Weiss, no matter how generous he might sometimes be.

While cleaning up from dinner, Tom thought about everything Weiss had told him; it was a lot more than Tom had thought. Somehow he had believed that Weiss just walked around killing people, but somehow there seemed to be a whole lot more to it. Tom had secretly hoped that this whole learning thing would be a quick process so he could return to Iran and kill Soroush, but obviously he had been wrong; maybe he would never get the chance to do that. It was actually the reason he had agreed to go with Weiss in the first place; Weiss was willing to teach him how to kill the man that was responsible for the life he had. Or at least one of the men who was responsible for it; there were so many people Tom wished he could kill, but Soroush was the first on his list.

Finally Tom was able to return to his book, and spent the rest of the evening reading. Until way past Weiss' bedtime which Tom had completely missed because he'd been so wrapped up in the story; by the time he finally realized what time it was, it was well past 2am. He was horrified; hopefully Weiss hadn't realized.

Not daring to brush his teeth anymore even though he knew he should, Tom crawled into bed and switched off the light. Only once the light was out and he was safely tucked into bed, did he realize how tired he was; the last time he had slept had been on the airplane, and he was actually about to pass out. But the day had just been so exciting; he had gotten his own room. His own room with a lock at the door, inside Weiss' beautiful house. It took Tom until that moment to actually realize what had happened; he was in America! And he was free. Or at least almost.

The next morning Tom slept in. Very late; it was already past 10am by the time he finally crawled out of bed. Why did Weiss have such dark curtains?! It was impossible to tell the time when they were closed. He couldn't remember ever having slept longer or better; beds and doors that locked were just awesome like that.

While he got dressed, Tom wondered why Weiss hadn't woken him, after all he had said Tom wasn't allowed to sleep longer than him. Maybe he'd forgotten; or he died.

After brushing his teeth in the spacious bathroom in the hall which, to Tom's horror, he had to share with Weiss because the upstairs only had one bathroom, he went downstairs to search for Weiss and see if the man was still alive.

It turned out he was. Weiss was sitting on the couch, reading something in one of those files that Tom knew contained the information about the next person he'd be killing. He looked up as he heard Tom, and by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Weiss got up, tossing the folder down and sending him a cold look.

"About time," he growled; "Put your shoes on," he said while walking towards the door.

Tom had really wanted to eat something first, but maybe that was for having slept so long; hopefully Weiss didn't intend to punish him too harshly for it. He slipped his shoes on and followed Weiss to the garage, where they got into a blue pickup.

They drove the street back to the town, where Tom saw a town sign that read 'Cascade' on it. It wasn't long before they pulled into a driveway where Weiss stopped the car.

Tom got a little nervous as he followed Weiss to the house; what where they doing here? Was this some sort of punishment because Tom had stayed up so late, not brushed his teeth and then slept so long?

"Jörg!" A man greeted Weiss after opening the door.

"Thanks for seeing me at such short notice," Weiss smiled, shaking the man's hand.

"Of course, of course," he waved his hand dismissively before setting his eyes on Tom; "I'm David Jost," he smiled, reaching his hand out for Tom. Tom didn't like him, and refused to shake hands with him. He was scared; why had Weiss brought him here? Every time Soroush had taken him to see another man, it was only for one purpose; Tom felt a cold shiver run up spine at the memory.

Jost sighed, dropping his hand while sending Weiss a disapproving look; "Damn, Jörg," he muttered, motioning for them to follow him inside. Weiss just shrugged.

The man, perhaps a little older than Weiss, led them to the back of the house while he and Weiss spoke in a language Tom couldn't understand; the man just nodded, frowning a little at what Weiss was telling him, occasionally looking over at Tom. Tom had a feeling they were talking about him, which only served to scare him even more.

At the end of the short hall, he opened the door, gesturing for Tom to walk into the room.

Tom gave Weiss a nervous look; the room was almost empty, containing nothing but a few drawers and a strange bed.

"Get in," Weiss growled darkly, giving him a shove towards the room.

Tom stumbled inside, and the man followed him, closing the door; Weiss was on the outside. Tom began to panic; he knew what this man intended to do to him. How could Weiss betray him like this?

Tom wasn't sure whether he was more scared or hurt at that moment; he had trusted Weiss, how could he do this to him? He should have known it was too good to bed true.

"Sit down," Jost smiled, gesturing at the bed; Tom was about to be sick with fear and hate.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cant believe this is my most read story here... I always thought it was the least popular one O.O I'm so happy about it x3

Jörg sat down in one of the chairs aligned in the hall; hopefully this wouldn't take too long because he was beginning to get hungry, and the kid probably felt the same way.

A loud crash and the boy's horrified voice screaming _no_ nearly gave Jörg a heart attack, and he sprinted down the few feet to the door, yanking it open. Inside he found David lying wide eyed in a corner of the room with a bleeding nose, staring at the boy standing in the other corner.

Before Jörg got the chance to ask what was happening, the boy ran across the room, nearly knocking Jörg over in an attempt to run outside, but Jörg managed to slam the door before the kid had a chance to escape.

"How could you?! You said I didn't have to do this anymore!" the boy's voice trembled as he looked up at him with fear and betrayal in his eyes.

Slowly, realization began to dawn in Jörg; "David wasn't trying to hurt you," he tried to explain as calmly as he could.

"Liar!" the boy screamed hoarsely, shoving into him to try and get to the door. Jörg captured his fists before they managed to punch him in the face, and tried to restrain the boy as best as he could; for the little rascal he was, he sure had a lot of strength.

"He's a doctor, he's trying to help you," Jörg said sternly, but the boy wasn't having it.

"I don't need that kind of help!" he snarled, right before biting into Jörg's hand. Jörg growled at the stabbing pain, slamming the boy into a wall and twisting his arms behind his back so he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone.

"Um, Jörg? Can I say something?" David mumbled, slowly getting up from the floor while holding his bleeding nose; Jörg had almost forgotten he was there.

"I'm sorry that I slept so long today, please don't punish me like this," the boy pleaded, staring up at Jörg with wet eyes. Jörg swallowed drily, trying to fight the sickening feeling in his stomach; how could Tom think he was trying to punish him like this just for staying up too late? Was that really the opinion the boy had on him?

"I'm really sorry if I frightened you, Tom," David interrupted softly while searching through one of the drawers; "As Jörg said, I'm a doctor, and we both just want to make sure that you're alright." Finally David found some absorbent cotton and began tending to his nose which had almost stopped bleeding.

"Do you know what a doctor is?" David continued while cleaning up the blood.

"I am alright, I don't need any help," Tom shook his head, tugging weakly at Jörg's hands that were still keeping him pinned to the wall.

If David hadn't been in the room, Jörg would have hugged the frightened boy and promised everything would be alright, but with things as they were, he just stood there, twisting the poor boy's arms on his back.

"A doctor is a person who helps people when they are sick or injured," David ignored the boy's pleading, trying to clarify the situation.

"I'm not sick or injured, please just let me go," Tom whispered desperately. Jörg couldn't stand it any longer and released his grip from the boy, letting him sag down to the floor in a trembling mess.

"That's true, you're not sick or injured," David nodded; "Neither is Jörg, so why don't you both let me have a look at you, to make sure you're both as healthy as possible," he nodded at Jörg, who immediately understood what the man was trying to tell him.

"Jörg, would you please sit down?" he pointed at the examination table. Jörg complied while the boy watched in suspicious confusion, obviously debating whether to run away or not.

David's nose was almost clear of the blood as he brought over a bottle of disinfectant and began to disinfect the wound that the boy's teeth had left behind on Jörg's hand. He gave Jörg a slightly worried glance, and Jörg knew immediately what he was thinking; if the boy was ill, chances are he had just infected Jörg.

After taping the small wound with some gauze, David pulled a stethoscope from one of the drawers; "Shirt," he reminded Jörg, who proceeded to remove the clothing article, placing it next to him on the table.

The boy watched in silence while David examined Jörg, who was trying to calm down from the earlier commotion. Seeing the boy so frightened had upset him more than he was willing to admit.

David proceeded to do various things that Jörg knew weren't necessary on him, and David only did them so he could do them with Tom later without the boy freaking out over them.

"You could do with a blood test as well," David noted, bringing a vacutainer and tapping Jörg's left-arm vain before puncturing it with a hypothermic needle to draw the blood sample.

Jörg watched the boy who was staring at the blood that filled the glass tube; he still looked scared, but far less so than before. Jörg cursed himself for not having explained to him what he was here for; he should have known the boy had no idea what a doctor was and would be completely freaked out about being locked in a room with a man.

"Alright then, we're all done," David said brightly, handing Jörg his shirt back.

"Tom, would it be alright if I did with you exactly what I just did with Jörg?" David smiled warmly; he was obviously way better with kids than Jörg.

The boy gave Jörg another frightened, questioning look; Jörg nodded, in what he hoped was a reassuring way. Very slowly the boy got up and sat down on the table while Jörg pulled his shirt back on, heading for the door.

"Jörg, it would be great if you could stay here, I could really use an assistant," David said brightly, sending him an intent look, his eyes gesturing at the boy who was staring with wide eyes at Jörg, obviously freaking out that he was leaving him alone again. Jörg nodded, leaning against one of the drawers, wondering why the kid looked at him for protection; what had he ever done to make the boy feel safe? He had betrayed the boy's trust by bringing him here without any warning, and yet he wanted him to stay to... to what? Make sure David didn't hurt him?

"Tom, could you please take your sweater and shirt off?" David asked, approaching the table carefully.

"Why?" the boy asked suspiciously.

"Because then I can listen to your breathing to see if everything is alright in your lungs, and listen to your heartbeat," David smiled patiently, holding up the stethoscope for the boy to see. He eyed it suspiciously, but eventually nodded softly, and began removing the requested clothes.

Jörg inhaled sharply at the sight; the boy's body looked even worse than when they had first met. He noticed David looking at him with a horrified expression, but Jörg could only shrug softly and shake his head.

"Great," David was obviously having a hard time staying cheerful as he slowly approached the scared boy.

~*~

Tom felt really uncomfortable and wanted to run away, but he didn't want to anger Weiss any more than he had already, so he remained still and let the man listen to his heartbeat. He coughed a bit when the man told him to, just the way Weiss had done earlier; he was completely confused what all this was supposed to be about. He felt perfectly fine; way better than he ever remembered at any other point in his life, so why did Weiss think that he needed someone to do this to him?

"Alright, now please stand right here, as straight as possible," David instructed him; Tom remembered this part from Weiss' examination earlier; the doctor was going to touch his back and shoulders; Tom wanted to scream and run away in fear.

He felt the man's warm hands on his shoulder, occasionally pressing here and there; it wasn't painful at all, but Tom hated it; he didn't want to be touched. The man's hands touched the back of his neck, gently moving his head from side to side, before very slowly moving down along the middle of his back, testing with his fingers.

"That was great, now I just need you to bend forward a little bit. Try to touch your toes with your hands, ok?" he asked in that calm, gentle voice of his.

Tom also remembered Weiss having done this, and so he complied, reaching down to his toes while the man touched each of the bones on his back.

"Ok that was very good. Now could you please lie down on the table there?" he gestured at the weird bed, just the way he had done earlier for Weiss.

Tom crawled on the table and lay down on his back while the man proceeded to touch the bones on his chest, beginning right below his throat, and then moving slowly downwards to his stomach and abdomen.

"Does this hurt?" Jost asked while pressing around randomly on Tom's stomach.

Tom shook his head; he hadn't had stomach pains in a long time, least he had eaten something bad, but that hadn't happened either since he moved in with Weiss.

"Not here either?" the man asked as he gently dug his fingers into Tom's sides; Tom shook his head.

"Alright," Jost smiled warmly down at him; Tom was slowly beginning to not hate the man as much as before; "What about when you go to the bathroom, does it hurt, or do you sometimes bleed?" he asked softly.

Tom shook his head again. He knew what the man was talking about; he had always been in a lot of pain during the time when he had lived at Soroush's, but the last time he had bled had been months ago, and the pain had slowly died down too.

"That's really good to hear," Jost smiled again; "I want you to tell me if that ever changes, or if anything else hurts you, ok?"

Tom nodded again, not really understanding why this man cared whether he was in pain or not; no one had ever asked him that before, or cared in any way. It was an unusual feeling for Tom, but he liked it; it was nice that someone had asked him that.

Once the awful touching was finally over, David said he could put his shirt back on. Tom was really grateful because he hated not being fully dressed; he knew how hideous he looked, especially in comparison to Weiss. Tom had admired the man's body earlier, wishing that he could look like that someday; of course he knew he couldn't, even if he ever grew up to be tall and strong the way the other man was, his body would always be covered in horrible scars.

Fascinated, Tom watched as the man drew blood from his arm which splattered into the small glass tube. It didn't look like the blood Tom was used to; usually he only knew smeared, half dried blood which was more brown than red, and generally looked disgusting, but this one was a beautiful, lively, deep red; Tom could hardly believe that it came out of his body. Who'd have thought someone as ugly as him had something so pretty inside.

Tom smiled absently at the thought that at least there was one thing that was nice about him, even if no one could see it.

~*~

Jörg raised an eyebrow at the boy who smiled down at the blood seeping from his vain; he had thought the boy would freak out at the fact that someone was hurting him by sticking a needle in his arm, but he didn't seem bothered by it at all; quite the opposite. It was a bit unsettling.

When the physical was over, David led them to the living room.

"You must be starving by now, Tom," David smiled at the boy, who gave him an uncertain glance; "I'm sure Jörg told you that you couldn't eat anything because of the blood test," David sent him a glare, well knowing Jörg had failed to do this. The boy didn't say anything.

"Why don't you just sit here, and I'll make you a sandwich," David gestured at the couch, sending another glare at Jörg, motioning for him to follow into the kitchen.

"Jörg," David began slowly once they entered the kitchen and were out of the boy's hearing range; "You suck," he accused with another glare.

Jörg sighed; he knew David was right, but what was he supposed to do?

"That kid is a total mess, why the hell didn't you just off him?" David whispered while he searched through the fridge.

"And I'm the one who sucks..." Jörg rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious. What in the world are you going to do with that boy?" David glared, placing random things on the counter.

"I don't know... what was I supposed to do, leave him in Iran?" Jörg defended himself.

"No. Kill him. It would have been best for you, and him," David reasoned while cutting bread. Jörg knew he was right.

"I was going to... but I just couldn't," he mumbled stupidly; what kind of a hit-man couldn't kill someone?

David raised an eyebrow as he began placing cheese on the bread; "You do know that that boy will never be able to lead a normal life, right?"

Jörg sighed; "Yeah... but then again; who the hell wants a normal life?" he grinned.

"Everyone who can't have one," David nodded slowly, adding ham.

"Leave the ham out," Jörg moved over to the counter to help David with the sandwiches.

"Why? Did you put him on some cruel diet where he's not allowed to eat ham?" David gave him a suspicious look.

"No, I think he's vegetarian," Jörg mumbled, feeling stupid.

"You think? Why don't you ask him?" David shook his head, already knowing the answer; "You're not qualified to raise a child, least of all one like that. Get rid of him."

"No," Jörg snapped angrily for reasons he couldn't explain.

David just shook his head; "If the boy turns into a monster, you'll know who to blame. A child with a past like that can't turn into anything good... especially not if raised as a killer. You can't save him, Jörg," he finished softly.

"Whatever. Tell me how the physical went," Jörg changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on David's words.

"Given the circumstances, pretty good. His vertebrae is a bit slanted to the left, but it's nothing serious. Probably came from sleeping on the hard floor for so long," David sighed as he placed the first sandwiches on a plate; "You could give him some training to strengthen his back muscles. That should help him on the long run."

Jörg nodded, trying not to think of Tom sleeping on the cold hard floor.

"Other than the countless scars and fractures he's suffered, he's good. I can't say much of his internal injuries, but since he's not in any sort of pain, I presume they healed as well as the superficial wounds. He's got a strong body, but don't overdo it with any training," he sent him a warning glance before continuing; "I'm sure the blood test will tell us more than anything else. You should come see me in three weeks," he said quietly.

Jörg just sighed, nodding; if the boy had infected him with HIV, it would take three weeks for it to be testable.

"Right," David grumbled, leading them back into the living room.

The kid looked up as they came in, his eyes fixed on the plate that David placed on the small table in front of the couch while taking a sandwich for himself. Jörg joined him; despite having had breakfast, he was pretty hungry by now since it was past lunchtime.

"So Tom, tell me a little about yourself," David encouraged a conversation while he and Jörg ate; Jörg was painfully aware that Tom hadn't made any attempt at taking a sandwich.

Obviously Tom had no idea what David wanted from him because he was just looking at the man with a confused expression.

"Where did you grow up?" David asked with a warm smile, noticing the boy didn't know what to say.

The kid glanced at Jörg nervously, but Jörg didn't know what to do so he just kept eating.

"Well I, just like Jörg here, am German," David conversed casually; Jörg had a feeling the boy had no idea what that meant. Apparently David sensed his confusion too.

"That means we're from Germany. Have you ever heard of it?" David carried on lightly, and the boy shook his head.

"It's a country in Europe. Have you ever heard of Europe?"

Apparently David wanted to teach the kid some common knowledge, and Jörg desperately wished he would be able to speak that way to the boy. To Jörg's great surprise, Tom nodded at this question.

"Really? That's great!" David smiled brightly; "Where are you from? Jörg told me that you grew up in Japan, were you born there?"

Tom nodded, still silent as the dead.

"Nice. What about your parents, where are they from?" David asked softly, probably knowing that this was a very delicate subject; who knew what happened to the boy's parents.

"Europe," the boy mumbled softly.

"Oh alright. Do you know which country?" David's tone was still light, but Jörg knew David wanted the boy to answer for his benefit; he knew Jörg would never ask the boy himself.

"Ireland," the boy answered, just as quietly as before. This certainly explained why the boy spoke semi-decent English.

David nodded; "Tom, don't you want to eat something?" he took the plate and held it out to the boy.

The boy glanced at Jörg again, as if asking for permission; Jörg just nodded, wishing the boy would just take the damned bread if he was hungry.

"T-thank you," he stammered, taking a sandwich. Jörg felt his stomach twist at the words; Tom had never said that to him. He tried to fight the childish jealousy that began to rise in him at the fact that all David had done was give him a stupid cheese sandwich that the kid was so grateful for, and after everything he had done for the boy, the kid hadn't shown a single ounce of gratitude. Of course that might also be related to the fact that Jörg had raped him and David hadn't, but still.

"We should get going," Jörg growled, suddenly irritated at David.

"I'll call you as soon as the test results come back," David told him as they walked to the door. Jörg was nervous about the test; what if the boy turned out be seriously ill? What if he had infected him? Jörg was undecided for whom he worried more, himself or the kid. Part of him wanted to really not care whether the kid was ill, and he tried to only worry about himself, but somehow the thought of the boy being ill scared him a lot more than if it was himself; he'd be able to handle it, HIV wasn't the end of the world, but what about the boy? He was so fragile and damaged already, Jörg really didn't want to put him through any more suffering.

"Thanks," Jörg nodded, shaking his friend's hand.

"It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope to see you again soon. Hopefully under slightly more pleasant circumstances," David grinned, rubbing his nose.

The boy nodded guiltily, awkwardly shaking David's hand as well before they got into the car and drove back home in silence, the only sound coming from the kid's quiet chewing on his sandwich.

During the drive Jörg wondered why he couldn't communicate with the boy the way David did. Sure, the boy hadn't been particularly talkative, but at least David was capable of holding a conversation with him; why couldn't he do this? Why did he feel so anxious and cold around that boy? Why did he feel threatened by him?

~*~

Tom finished his sandwich in silence, and then glanced over at the man sitting next to him; he was looking ahead with that usual cold expression on his face. Tom tried to figure out what that had been today; in hindsight it didn't seem as if Weiss had done that to punish him. Jost had turned out to be quite nice, and actually seemed to care about the way Tom felt; did that mean Weiss cared as well? Had he really taken him there to make sure that he wasn't injured or sick? Why would Weiss even care whether he was feeling good or not?

He couldn't make any sense of the situation but decided it wasn't so bad; maybe he would understand it later.

Awkwardly Tom cleared his throat; "Uh...I'm very sorry about your hand," he mumbled softly, eyeing the man's reaction. Weiss hadn't even tried to hit him because of it; had he planned some other punishment for him? Tom had often expected the man to do something bad to him due to his unruly behavior, but so far Weiss hadn't punished him for anything at all.

"It's fine, just don't ever do it again," he replied quietly, not looking over at him.

"I won't," Tom shook his head quickly; could it be that Weiss wasn't really into hurting other people? Sure he was scary and hostile, but he had never been violent towards him. Tom had never met anyone who didn't strike him for the smallest of reasons; maybe he'd been wrong about Weiss. Maybe he wasn't as bad as Tom had initially thought.


	8. Chapter 8

Tom looked up from his book when someone knocked on his bedroom door. What was he supposed to do now, open it? Call for Weiss to come in? But it was his house, shouldn't he be able to come in any time he wanted to?

Before Tom decided what to do there was another knock, so he quickly jumped up to open the door. It wasn't Weiss, it was Natalie.

"Hey Tom," she smiled brightly; Tom had completely forgotten that she was supposed to come by today.

"H-hello," he stuttered awkwardly.

"May I come in?" she was still smiling, and Tom almost wanted to smile back; but only almost. He opened the door wider to let her and her large stack of books inside.

"Your father said it was probably best we study up here," she said as she placed the books down on the desk.

Tom stared in disbelief; his father?! Weiss had told her that he was his father? Why would he do that? Tom was completely confused.

"I'll just bring a chair from downstairs," she said brightly as she walked out the door that Tom was still holding; he was still caught up on the father thing from earlier.

A moment later she came back up with a chair which she placed next to Tom's in front of the desk and sat down, patting Tom's chair.

"Come on, sit down," she smiled her kind smile again. It was a strange smile; Tom had never seen anyone smiling like that. Or at least not in a very long time. The person who came closest to it was Jost; he had also smiled at Tom really nicely. Were all people in America so friendly? It was weird.

He sat down next to Natalie while she looked at the book Tom had been reading when she arrived.

"Tsk, seriously. I can't believe your dad lets you read this kind of stuff. You're going to end up having nightmares!" she shook her head, rolling her eyes.

Tom didn't really know what she meant; he often had plenty of nightmares, but not about such nice things as that book.

"Anyway," she continued, placing the book aside; "I don't know where you left off in your school in Germany, so I thought we'd just quickly skim through until we reach about the same level, what do you say?"

Tom was now more confused than ever; "Germany?"

"Yeah. Your dad said you haven't gone to school for quite some time, since the accident, and so we should catch up a little bit," she smiled warmly, obviously trying to be sympathetic to whatever she thought had happened to him.

"S-school? Accident?" Tom stuttered, completely lost.

"Yeah..." she said slowly, raising her left eyebrow; "The car accident you were in last year."

What in the world had Weiss told her?! "Oh. Yes," Tom mumbled, not wanting to say anything against whatever Weiss had told her; obviously Weiss didn't want her to know the truth about him. Of course not; she would end up hating him otherwise.

"Alright then," she said slowly; "Shall we start with Math?"

Tom nodded; "What's that?"

Natalie gave him a slightly odd look, but then she smiled again and began to explain what Math was. Apparently something that dealt with numbers; Tom had never heard of it.

She showed him in a book what numbers she was talking about, and what they were all called; the first ones she explained were natural numbers and rational numbers. Why natural and rational? Why weren't they just called natural and unnatural numbers? Math was weird in Tom's opinion.

Apparently numbers were a lot more useful than Tom had thought, and you could do a lot more with them than just count things.

"So if your father gives you twelve apples, and you give three to me, how many would you have left?" she questioned him after various hours of explaining numbers, and how they could be used.

"Nine?" Tom asked; this wasn't really difficult, but if she wanted to ask him silly questions, he would answer them; after all Weiss had said he had to do everything she told him, and he was determined not to disobey him if possible.

Today Tom had learned that there were four basic things he needed when it came to numbers; addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. Tom had never heard of any of these, but so far it had proven to be quite easy.

"Tomorrow we will continue with multiplication, and see how we do there, ok?" she asked once the lesson was over and he accompanied her to the door.

Tom nodded; "Thank you for helping me," he mumbled quietly, not sure if thanking her was appropriate, but he really wanted to.

She smiled warmly at him and nodded; "It's a pleasure." With that she walked downstairs and Tom closed his door; he wanted to take another look at the things he had learned, just to make sure he wouldn't forget them until tomorrow; or should he eat first? He was already so hungry. But he still wanted to take a look at numbers because Natalie was so nice to him, and he really wanted to show her that he was interested in what she was teaching him.

~*~

Jörg looked up as Natalie came down the stairs; that had taken a lot longer than he had thought. It was long past dinner, but Jörg decided not to interrupt them; the kid could just eat later.

"That went great!" Natalie smiled cheerfully; "He's not far behind at all, apparently he was pretty good at that school in Germany."

Jörg blinked a bit surprised; "Really?"

"Of course not! He hasn't even heard of Math! Who the hell is that boy?" she shrieked angrily, placing her hands on her hips.

Jörg groaned inwardly; great. "I can explain that," he lied.

"Please do," she replied drily, still staring down at him in that creepy motherly fashion.

Jörg got up, feeling too threatened on the couch; "It's complicated," he began, having no idea what he should tell her.

"Try me," she was obviously determined not to let this matter drop.

"Actually that's none of your business," Jörg decided, having no idea how to explain any of this.

"You have a 12 year old boy who looks like he came out of a meat grinder, who's never heard the word Math before. Believe me mister Weiss, that's everyone's business!" she said angrily.

Jörg sighed again; why did people have to care so much about things? "I'm more than willing to triple your salary if you drop the matter," he said coldly.

"I am not interested in your bribe! I'm interested in what you did to that poor boy," she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I didn't do anything to him! I'm just trying to help him," Jörg snapped angrily; how dare she assume that he was the culprit for this.

"Then what happened to him?" she demanded.

Jörg weighed his options very carefully; he could either tell her the truth about the boy, or shoot her. Both came with very large disadvantages; if she knew the truth, chances were she would call child services and the boy would be taken away from him, but if he killed her... he would lose the one person he trusted to help him with Tom. And of course there was also the whole 'killing an innocent mother of two kids who would end up orphans' and all that.

"He was a child prostitute in a brothel in Iran," he finally replied with a sigh.

Natalie just stared at him, obviously half expecting him to say he was joking.

"I don't know who he is exactly, he hasn't said much, but I didn't want to leave him there," he finished quietly, hoping the woman would understand his point of view.

After a short pause in which Jörg got more nervous by the second, Natalie finally spoke; "You were in Iran?"

Jörg nodded.

"Why? When?" she was obviously trying to take it easy, and completely ignoring the fact that the boy had been a sex slave.

"Now, when I was away. I work there occasionally." There really wasn't any point in trying to talk his out of this now.

"As what...?" she asked in disbelief, obviously suspecting Jörg was more than he had let her know.

"That has nothing to do with the boy, and is therefor, absolutely none of your business," Jörg replied sternly; he couldn't tell her that, or he really would have to kill her.

"Right," she muttered darkly; "And what were you doing in an Iranian child brothel?"

"I met him on the street while he was fishing food out of a dumpster," Jörg decided to leave the part out about how he had first met the boy.

Natalie swallowed visibly; "And you just want to keep him? He's not a stray dog; he needs help," she said agitatedly.

"Help? From whom, child services?" Jörg barked a laugh; "Yeah, they are going to stick him in a foster home with people who can't take care of him at all and will have zero understanding for what happened to him."

Natalie raised an eyebrow; "And you do have understanding for this?"

Jörg was quiet for a while, trying to decide how much information he wanted the woman to have; "Yes," he finally replied quietly, hoping she would understand what he was trying to tell her.

Her expression turned to slightly shocked before she nodded softly; "I see."

A long pause followed in which Jörg hoped he had made the right decision by telling her all this. Well, if worse came to worse he could always just kill her.

Eventually Natalie nodded slowly and sighed; "So what's going to happen to him?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you could help me teach him so maybe someday he'll be able to go to a normal school," Jörg answered, even though he had no idea if that would ever work; in all honesty he had absolutely no idea what was to become of that child.

"By what I've learned so far of him I don't think he'll be able to attend any school, even if he catches up on education. He's terrified and unable to lead a conversation; how do you expect someone like that to integrate into a normal society? I think you should put him in therapy," she commented slowly.

"I guess I could try, yeah. I'll search up a psychiatrist in Denver, maybe it'll help him." Jörg didn't know yet if he really intended to do that, but if it would mean Natalie refrained from saying anything to anyone, he might consider it.

"How did you even get him into the country?" she asked suspiciously, obviously suspecting there was something illegal going on here.

Jörg sighed, running a hair through his hand; "I don't want to tell you because it's illegal and I don't want to involve you," he said honestly.

Natalie didn't look very shocked this time; "Right... just don't do anything too illegal, mister Weiss," she said with a soft smile.

Jörg nodded, wondering again why she cared about that.

She nodded again before heading to the door; "I'm trusting your word that you will treat the boy nicely," she said as she slipped into her boots and zipped them up.

Jörg nodded again, a little annoyed that she thought she could tell him how to treat people, but not willing to show her since he was glad he didn't have to kill her; "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yes, I'll be here at around 5, like today," she smiled a bit shakily before waving and closing the door.

Jörg dropped down on the couch with a groan and rubbed his face with his hands; this was so much more complicated than he had first thought. How had he believed that bringing the boy here was a good idea?

~*~

Tom soundlessly closed to the door to his room, trying to process the information he had just acquired. He had actually wanted to go down to eat something, but didn't dare interrupt the conversation about him.

Weiss had told Natalie the truth about him, and even though she had been shocked, she hadn't said anything bad about him; was she alright with who Tom was and what he had done? How could she be, she was such a nice lady and Tom was so awful.

He hadn't really understood what they were talking about; he had never heard of child services or anything like that - the only thing did understand is that Weiss didn't want anyone to take him away, and that caused Tom to feel unusually happy and warm inside. He wasn't sure if he still hated Weiss or not, but the fact that the man wanted to keep him from whatever a foster home might be, sounded very good to Tom; no one had ever wanted him before. No one had ever tried to protect him from something bad, and no one had ever said that they understood him. What had Weiss meant with that? 

For a moment Tom had thought that maybe what Weiss had tried to say was that someone had also hurt him, just like it had happened with Tom, but then he remembered that Weiss was a dangerous killer; no one would dare do something like that to him. He was probably talking about something else.

With a confused sigh, Tom opened the door again and slipped out; he was quite hungry by now, and hoped that Weiss had left some dinner for him in the kitchen.

As he went downstairs he found Weiss still lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The man got up as soon as he noticed Tom, and gestured towards the kitchen.

"Food's in the oven," he said before picking up the papers that lay scattered around.

Tom watched him for a second, contemplating whether it was within the range of possible that someone had hurt Weiss. Maybe a really long time ago? Had someone also forced him to do things he didn't want to? Tom could barely imagine it; Weiss was so strong and confident, and not scared of anything. He was the exact opposite of Tom.

Could it be that he had once been different? It was hard for Tom to imagine Weiss as a young, frightened child but perhaps it had been like that; perhaps he had also had an awful childhood. Perhaps he really could understand Tom better than anyone else.

Tom shook his head as he entered the kitchen; of course not. Weiss had never been hurt by anyone, nor had he ever been afraid of anything; if that would have been the case, he would have never hurt Tom the first time they met. No person who ever had something so awful happen to them would ever do that to someone else.

Or at least that's what Tom's naive mind still believed at that moment.

The next morning Tom got up early, not wanting to anger Weiss again. It was barely 5:30am, and the sun was just beginning to rise.

Tom nodded, pleased that he hadn't overslept, and hopped to the bathroom to take a quick shower and brush his teeth. Tom loved showering; it was one of those small things that made his life amazing, and he wanted to do it every day if possible.

Quietly he opened the door, just in case Weiss was still sleeping, but froze immediately. Weiss wasn't sleeping anymore. He was standing in front of the mirror with nothing but a pair of worn out sweatpants, while cleaning some weird white stuff from his face.

He looked at Tom in the mirror and lowed his eyes; "What?" he snapped angrily after a few moments.

Tom jumped slightly, quickly closing the door. Did Weiss always get up that early? Tom made a mental note to always knock from now on.

He waited in his room until he heard Weiss leaving the bathroom, and then snuck in for his morning shower.

Once Tom was squeaky clean, he went down to have breakfast, still not used to the way things were here; showering, teeth brushing and regular food was something he wouldn't even have dreamt of a few weeks ago, and now it was suddenly becoming normal.

"Did you remember the things I told you about reloading? We'll begin with that after workout," Weiss informed him while they ate.

Tom nodded; he was really excited to finally be able to do something useful.

"We are going to start reloading ammunition for the K98k; which caliber is this?" Weiss questioned.

"8x57IS," Tom answered slowly, hoping he remembered that right. Weiss had told him about the K98k; it was a German rifle from the Second World War; whatever that meant.

"What do the numbers stand for?"

"8 is the land diameter in the barrel, and 57 is the length of the case," Tom replied uncertainly; or had it been the grove diameter...?

"How often do we use a cartridge before using it to kill, and why do we do this?" Weiss carried on.

"Twice, so that the cartridge will be exactly formed for the weapon chamber and have the most precise aim," Tom thought he was really getting the hang of this already.

After breakfast, Weiss led him to the back of the house, into a large room filled with very unusual looking objects.

"This is my training room, and you will train with me," Weiss informed him; "I just want you to watch today, and pay close attention to what I'm doing because I expect you to follow me soon, clear?"

Tom nodded, feeling excited again; he couldn't wait to finally start doing something.

The next two hours went by while Tom watched Jörg working out on various random machines to which he explained what they were good for. He said Tom would be training a lot with one of the devices designed to train his lower back muscles, because for an unknown reason, this was apparently very important for Tom. Apparently Tom wasn't allowed to actually use a lot of weights until he was at least fourteen, because otherwise this would be bad for his development; Tom had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

After Weiss was done with his workout, he said Tom was allowed to try out the different equipment if he wanted, while Weiss went upstairs to shower. So for the next fifteen minutes Tom busied himself testing out every one of the devices; he was fascinated by the fact that when he pressed the button with the little + on it, everything was harder to do, and when he pressed the - , everything was easier again.

He couldn't wait to start training regularly too; he really didn't want to stay all scrawny and weak the way he was now, and believed that this stuff would help him with that. Of course there was also the fact that if he was stronger he could fight and defend himself better; that was almost more alluring than the whole not being so small and skinny. 

"What are you doing?" Weiss startled him; "Did you change all my settings?"

Tom swallowed nervously, again expecting severe consequences, but eventually Weiss just rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"Come on, we have work to do."

Tom followed the man outside, past the garage, and towards one of the other wooden houses; there were three in total. One had been the garage, and the others Tom hadn't been inside of yet.

Weiss opened the door to the closest one, and Tom was about to enter, but his attention was caught by a large animal emerging from the other house; Tom had seen those animals before.

"You have a donkey!" Tom said enthusiastically, completely forgetting that he was afraid of Weiss as he ran towards the white fence that stood between them and the animal. Tom loved animals - had always wanted a pet, but of course he never got the chance to it.

The donkey was giant; way bigger than any Tom had ever seen, and it slowly approached Tom who reached out his hand towards it.

"That's not a donkey. It's a horse," Weiss grumbled moodily, catching up with Tom.

Tom had never heard of this before, but now that he took a good look at it, Weiss was right; it really wasn't a donkey. It had really tiny ears compared to the rest of its body, and generally looked a bit different. Tom still liked it; its nose was really soft, and it had really large nostrils that Tom felt compelled to put his fingers into, but decided against it since he thought this might anger Weiss.

While Tom was busy studying nostrils, another one of the animals came out of the house, curious to see what the commotion was about.

"Alright alright, enough," Weiss growled, heading back towards the other house into which they had wanted to go initially, obviously expecting Tom to follow.

With one last look at the... what were they called again? Not-donkeys, Tom followed Weiss; maybe he would be allowed to see them later. For a moment Tom considered asking him, but decided against it; Weiss already did so much for him, he didn't want to push the man's generosity.

"Now pay attention," Weiss said loudly, obviously having noticed that Tom's mind was still wrapped around the animals outside; Tom quickly focused on the man, not wanting to seem disrespectful.

"Before we can begin reloading, the casings - or shells, must be cleaned so that the die-set doesn't get dirty. We do this with a tumbler. This right here," Weiss pointed towards a round, orange plastic pot that was filled with little pebbles; "The tumbler removes all dirt, oil or anything else that might be on them, and leaves them nice and shiny, like this," he held a brass casing up for Tom to see; "Once they are clean, we oil them with this," he showed him a can of oil; "Then we put them in the die-set to calibrate them," Weiss proceeded to place the shell in the die-set, lowered the lever and then removed the case again.

"After that we eject the spent primer with the decapping die," he explained while he demonstrated, and Tom tried to remember every step; "Then they go back into the tumbler to clean out the oil before we can begin filling them again." Weiss tossed the casing into the tumbler and picked up a different one that was already oil free; "We always do this in batches, that way the tumbler has time to catch up. Here are the clean ones that still need oil, and there are the clean ones that are ready for filling," he pointed at two different baskets containing brass.

"The cases should all be the exact same length, if they are not, we trim them, but I'll show you that later. Most are the same length anyway, so don't worry about it right now. Once all that is done, we insert a new primer; we use Boxer primers, not Berdan; I'll explain the difference later. You place the primer here," he showed Tom how exactly he was meant to lay the new primer in the shell; "And then you lower the lever, but not too fast or hard, or the primer might go off. When you got all that, you begin filling it with powder; how much powder do we use for this caliber?"

"Um... 169 grains?" Tom knew Weiss had told him this a while ago, but he wasn't sure anymore.

"196," Weiss corrected coldly; "You weigh the powder with the scale, and use the powder trickler at the end to make sure you have exactly 196 grains," Weiss spoke slowly as he proceeded to put the powder in until it was exactly 196 grains; "Then you put them all in here," he indicated to a green tray with holes in it; "Once this is full, you will first check to be certain that absolutely every casing is filled with powder, because if one of them is empty and you shoot with it, the bullet will get stuck in the barrel and prevent you from being able to keep shooting. Once you have all the casings filled, you place the bullet on top and make sure they all have approximately the same length again, and then you are finished. Understood everything?" he asked once he was done with his explaining and he put the first finished cartridge in the tray.

Tom nodded slowly, trying to remember everything the man had just said.

"Good, then get started with these," he pointed at the cases that were ready for filling; "And hurry up, we haven't got all day," he snapped, walking away to busy himself with other things.

Slowly Tom proceeded to do as told, placing the first casing inside the die-set and placing the primer on it. Carefully he lowered the lever, pressing the primer into the casing. Once the first casing had a primer, he placed it aside and took the next one, doing the same thing over again. And then again and again. And again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone ^^ I wont be posting over the weekend because I'm not here... a friends getting married o.o but I'll post as soon as I'm back ^^ probably monday or tuesday.  
> Enjoy!

Jörg began cleaning up random things, trying to find something to do just so he could stay and keep an eye on the boy to make sure he did everything correctly. Thankfully the kid was fully concentrated on his task, and paid no mind to what Jörg was doing; which was pretty much nothing at all.

For a lack of a better activity, he decided to organize his entire reloading records; it was something he'd been meaning to do for years, but could never be bothered. He sat down on the floor and spread all the folders around him, ordering them by caliber.

His peaceful sorting of papers was interrupted by a loud explosion and a horrified shriek which he could barely hear over the loud ringing in his ears. He jumped up and ran towards the kid sitting on the ground with a terrified expression on his face. The poor boy was shaking visibly, and began mumbling a million apologies that Jörg could barely hear at the moment.

He had the strange desire to hug the boy and comfort him but didn't dare, so he just glared at him.

"God, you're useless. I told you not to press them too fast or they would go off," he snapped, unable to explain why he was berating the boy; exploding primers had happened to him countless times as well. Seeing the boy so scared unsettled him, and the unusual feeling of wanting to comfort him freaked him out even worse; he didn't want to care about this boy; he didn't want to be upset when the boy was frightened; he didn't want to feel anything at all for him.

The boy mumbled another apology and got up, shakily returning to the primer press.

Jörg knew well how much courage it took the poor kid to keep working; he remember the first time a primer had gone off in his face - he'd been completely freaked out and for the next few weeks barely dared to touch the primer press; and that even though he had been at least four or five years older than the boy was now.

No matter how hard he tried to focus on his papers, his eyes kept wandering back to the dejected boy; what was it about him that unsettled him so much? It was just a random kid, what was his problem?

He tried to think of himself around other kids; the only other kid he knew was Bill, but that had always been completely different. He was relaxed and comfortable around Bill, even though Bill was unruly, loud and generally insufferable; the boy didn't listen to anything Jörg told him, he was slightly hyperactive and talked nonstop. In comparison to Tom, Bill was a total nightmare - and yet Jörg felt more comfortable with the other boy. What was it about Tom that made him so edgy?

With a sigh, he decided it was probably best to stop for today; the kid could use a break, and so could he, even though he hadn't done much.

Maybe he should tell the boy to help him with the cooking today. Yes, Jörg told himself he was feeling lazy and wanted the boy to do the work. Somewhere in the deep parts of his mind, where he refused to go, he knew the reason he wanted the boy to help out was because he wanted him to think about something else, and not dwell on the nasty reloading incident.

"We're done for today. You're going to help me make lunch," he ordered, placing the hardly touched folders back into the shelves.

The boy looked up with wide eyes, obviously very happy about this new development.

Weiss didn't miss the enthusiasm from the boy as he ordered him around the kitchen, showing him how to clean and cut vegetables. He smiled to himself; he had never known anyone who was so uncomplicated. The boy was happy to do the most mundane tasks, and found everything to be interesting and awesome; it didn't even matter what Jörg told him to do, he was always concentrating on the task at hand, as if it were actually something important.

He watched as the boy carefully cut zucchini, making sure they were all about the same size, just like Jörg had instructed him earlier. Not that he actually needed help in the kitchen, but he did want the kid to learn how to cook; sooner or later he would need it. And obviously this had been the perfect time, because the boy seemed to have forgotten all about the exploding primer earlier.

Just like in all other aspects, Tom proved to be a very fast learner, and Jörg was pleasantly surprised to find that the boy had apparently been paying close attention to his cooking before, judging by the fact that he knew various things Jörg hadn't told him yet; for example what steaming something meant. Or the fact that Jörg always used palm oil to fry things. Damn that kid was attentive.

Perhaps he should tell him to cook with him more often; he enjoyed it more than he cared to admit. It was a completely new thing for Jörg; he had always lived alone, and up until now had never let anyone cook with him. He had always thought someone in the kitchen would just bother him, but it turned out that he was having a pretty good time; the kid was useful, quick, efficient, and didn't stand in his way at all. It bordered on a pleasant experience.

While they prepared lunch, Jörg thought back about the morning they had had; also there had the kid proven himself to be quite skilled, and Jörg had enjoyed the time with him. He had never reloaded with someone else before either; it was usually something he did when he was bored and had nothing better to do. It was a very repetitive activity that generally bored him but needed to be done. Except for today - just watching the kid had been entertaining, and other than the exploding incident, it had been a rather pleasant morning. Did he really enjoy hanging out with some kid?

"Tomorrow you'll begin with a few easy exercises. I expect you to be ready at 6am. Don't bother showering, you will do that afterwards. However you will brush your teeth, clear?" he asked while the boy began setting the table, in the exact same way Jörg always did.

The boy just nodded in his usual obedient way.

Once they began eating, Jörg noticed that the boy was fidgeting around in his seat, obviously wanting to say something but not daring; he had noticed that a few times with him. Was he really so scary to the poor boy? Jörg had never thought of himself as all that scary; sure, when he killed someone maybe a little bit to the person being killed, but overall he was a very easy going person, and not at all hostile or creepy.

"What is it?" he finally snapped, wanting to help the poor kid out of his dilemma.

"Um," the boy stuttered in his usual, insecure way; "C-can I pet your hose?"

Jörg nearly choked on his food; "Excuse me?!"

The boy's eyes widened in fear at Jörg's outraged expression and he quickly shook his head; "It's n-not important."

"You meant the horse, yes?" Jörg tried to come up with the only plausible explanation for the awful misunderstanding.

The boy nodded; "Yes, horse," he repeated slowly, testing the word out.

Jörg cleared his throat awkwardly; "Yeah sure, you can go outside after lunch if you want."

The boy almost smiled, his eyes brightening up with excitement, and Jörg found himself staring; he wished the boy would actually smile sometimes. He remembered his smile on the airplane; it had been so honest and innocent. Maybe he should go outside with him later... perhaps the horses could coax a smile out of him. Quickly, he pushed the disturbing thought from his mind; what did he care if the kid smiled or not.

He waited almost impatiently while Tom cleaned the kitchen. He almost considered helping him, but decided against it.

Once the boy was finally done, Jörg waited on the couch, trying to read; he was actually hoping the boy hadn't changed his mind about the horse thing and still wanted to go outside. He tried to ignore the warning bells in his head that went off due to the anxiety he had of the situation; what was wrong with him? Nothing, Jörg decided, and ignored himself again.

He needed to come up with some clever plan to join the boy outside without it being suspicious or weird; but what could he possibly say?

"Hey kid," he came up with a brilliant idea; "You can see the horses regularly but only if you also work outside in the stables," Jörg wasn't very fond of mucking stalls, and even though it wasn't a lot of work since it was only two horses, if he could get the kid to do it, it would be practical. And right now he had an excuse for himself to go outside with him. Of course he didn't care if the kid was happy to see the horses, all he cared about was getting out of work. Yes, that was it.

Tom nodded enthusiastically, following him out through the kitchen door which was the quickest route to the stables.

"Don't you dare wear these boots inside," he growled, shoving a pair of dirty boots towards the boy who just nodded again.

They climbed through the wooden fence, and Jörg showed him into the open stable that was currently vacant of any horses. The boy looked around with wide eyes at the large inside of the barn.

"This is where the horses sleep," he gestured around the sleeping area; "And here they have hay. This is also something that you're going to keep an eye on; the horses should always have hay, at all times," he instructed. The boy nodded in his usual fashion.

He proceeded to show him how everything was done, and explained that the horses came and went whenever they wanted. They spent most of the day outside, but came in every once in a while if it was too hot, or occasionally to sleep.

After making sure the boy had understood everything, he led him back outside so they could go looking for the horses; they weren't far off, grazing just a little away from the stable.

As soon as he saw them, Tom was practically radiating excitement; Jörg nearly laughed. The horses watched while they approached, only coming towards them once they were a few feet away. Without the fence in between, the kid was a bit more cautious, and took a step back as the large horse approached him.

"You're standing on my foot," Jörg growled at the boy who quickly jumped away, mumbling an apology.

It only took about thirty seconds for the boy to feel comfortable with the horses that towered over his head, and he began to pet them happily, his lips covered with the most serene smile.

Jörg occasionally patted one of the horses, but mostly just looked at the kid who's face was dazzling. How could someone so miserable smile so beautifully? And when had Jörg began viewing the boy as anything but ugly?

He often tried to tell himself that the boy was just a random street kid with an ugly face, but the more he got to know him, the less he managed to convince himself; despite the scars, the boy's face was elegant and handsome, and every day it got harder for Jörg to ignore it.

~*~

Tom buried his hands in the thick coat of the horse, completely forgetting the world around him. It was so soft, Tom wanted to touch it forever; it was by far the most pleasant thing he had ever touched.

He walked around with the horses while they ate, wishing that Natalie wouldn't come today so he could spend the entire day out here.

"Don't forget to clean out the barn before coming back in. Natalie will be here at five, don't be late," Weiss eventually told him as he began going back towards the main house. Tom smiled happily; the horses might not be his pets, but he was allowed to hang out with them and touch them whenever he wanted to.

After another while, Tom decided to try the cleaning of the barn; it wasn't very difficult. The horses had their toilet in one corner that Tom had to clean out, and he had to make sure that they had enough hay. Once the area was clean Tom spread the litter, which consisted of wood shavings, in the designated corner; he was done after a good thirty minutes, and returned to the horses that were still grazing around lazily.

Tom wondered if Weiss also rode them; he had seen saddles inside, so probably, but it was hard to imagine. Weiss didn't seem like an animal person at all; animals were so cute and Weiss was so scary.

That evening Natalie began teaching him the other two basic forms; multiplication and division. She said Tom was very quick at understanding and that they would advance quickly at this rate.

"I'm so proud of you!" Natalie said before leaving that night. It was the first time that anyone had ever told him they were proud of him; Tom was speechless. It felt amazing that Natalie had said that, and Tom was determined not to make her regret her words.

Just like yesterday, Tom got up at 5:30am, and after brushing his teeth he went downstairs to have breakfast with Weiss.

Weiss had said they would begin with a few exercises today, and Tom couldn't wait.

Their breakfast was light, and Tom was told that it was because he should never eat something too heavy before working out.

"You will begin with two rounds of twenty minutes, with a five minute break in-between," Weiss informed him once they were in the fitness room.

"These twenty minutes will increase over the next few months, until you can work out two hours at a time. After the physical work out we will go over to mental training, every day," he reminded Tom.

Tom just kept nodded at what the man told him, and proceeded to do the instructed work-outs at the different machines. At first it wasn't particularly difficult, but after the second round of twenty minutes, Tom was panting and sweating; unlike Weiss who had barely warmed up by now.

"Go take a shower, and then do whatever you want, but be back here at 8:30 sharp," Weiss commanded, and Tom went ahead to do as he was told.

He spent the hour going over the instructions for the small bore rifle Weiss had given him, since he would begin shooting with that today after training; Tom couldn't wait. He made notes of the most important things he had to remember, not wanting to anger the man by having forgotten half of what he'd been told. By now Tom's writing was so good he could almost read everything he wrote.

"Sit down here," Weiss pointed in front of him on the ground.

Tom sat down, cross-legged just like Weiss, on the matts on the floor, facing the older man.

"I want you to close your eyes, and not think of anything right now. Just focus on your body and how it feels," the man instructed, his own eyes closed. Tom was a bit nervous about closing his eyes, but eventually did, every now and then peeking to see if Weiss was still sitting there, but the man wasn't moving at all.

"Find a position in which you are comfortable, and just sit there, not doing anything at all. Focus on your breathing; consciously breathe in and out: slowly. Feel your heartbeat, and try to keep it steady. If it speeds up too much, try to calm yourself down," he continued quietly.

At first Tom thought this was the easiest thing in the world, but after only a few short minutes if silence, he wanted to move. Just sitting still was slightly unnerving, and the whole not thinking about anything wasn't working for him at all. He tried to focus on the breathing and heart beating thing, but it was a lot more difficult than it sounded.

After a painful eternity of trying not to twitch around, Weiss finally moved; "Alright that's enough for the first day."

Tom sighed in relief as he was allowed to move again; that had been the longest eternity of his life.

"We'll try to do a bit longer than just 10 minutes next time," Weiss growled, sending him a glare; obviously the man had noticed that Tom wasn't very focused.

Tom nodded dejectedly; 10 minutes?! It had felt like at least an hour or so.

He followed Weiss outside, past the stables and houses, farther out into the vast grounds. There was a small wooden shack there that Tom had never seen before, into which they now entered.

The shack didn't contain much, just a chair and an iron cot facing the opening in the back, which allowed them to see into some type of shallow trench outside. There were small red flags positioned randomly in the trench, and from the shack all the way to the other side of the trench a few hundred feet away, were long cables of some kind.

"This is our shooting range, and you will come here to practice every day for the next few years," Weiss informed him; "On the left you will shoot small bore inside this trench which is 330 feet long. In order to shoot big bore, you will aim at that there," Weiss pointed to a hill slope on their right; "It's 1400 feet away. But first you will focus only on the trench here."

Tom nodded while Weiss opened a rifle case; "I trust you read the instructions I gave you. So what rifle is this, and which caliber does it have?"

"It's an Anschütz M1907, with a .022lr caliber," Tom hoped the got the crazy pronunciation sort of right.

"What does lr stand for?"

"Long rifle," Tom replied immediately.

Weiss nodded, handing him earplugs; "You will never ever shoot without these, understood?"

Tom nodded, placing them in his ears; it felt weird and sort of uncomfortable. While Tom was busy with his ears, Weiss placed a paper target on the stand which, after he pressed the red button on his right, retracted automatically on the cables that took it all the way to the end of the trench. Once it stopped, Tom could hardly see the tiny black spot in the middle anymore. Although now that he looked closely, he could see another white target with a black spot in the middle right next to it; it didn't have cables leading to it.

Weiss took the rifle from the case and put a small, yellow box containing ammunition on the counter in front of them. He grabbed the chair and set it on the counter, placing the rifle's shoulder stock on it while he loaded it. After closing the rifle chamber, he set his left elbow on his hip to stable the rifle, positioned his head in aiming position and a second later Tom heard the shot ring out.

Weiss ejected the small casing which fell to the floor with a soft chiming sound.

"Always aim your weapon outside, even if it's unloaded; don't wave it around randomly, least of all when other people are present," Weiss gave him a warning look; "You will shoot at paper targets; meaning this side of the trench. Don't ever shoot at the target on the right side; it's a Meyton Electronik target. It goes to this computer screen here," Weiss pointed to a wooden panel inside the wall; "And it costs a few thousand dollars. If you shoot at it and break it, I will kill you," he finished matter-of-factly.

Tom nodded fearfully, hoping he wouldn't ever shoot at it by accident.

Weiss handed him the rifle; "You will shoot with the shoulder stock on the chair until you can hit at least five tens in a row, and then you can start shooting free," he informed him as he handed him the box with the ammunition.

Tom placed the small bullet in the chamber and closed it, placing the rifle on the chair just like Weiss had told him.

"Wait," the man held his hand up, searching through the small shack for something. Eventually he returned with a stack of old papers which he placed under the chair's feet; "Stand up straight, lift the rifle, look at the iron sights and focus on the target," he ordered.

He did as told, lifting the rifle to put it in the right height for him while Weiss fixed the height of the chair to fit Tom.

"The first thing you need to make sure of is that the rifle is pressed tightly against your right shoulder," Weiss told him, and settled the rifle correctly in his arms, pressing it firmly into Tom's shoulder; "This isn't only important because it will make you more steady, but also because otherwise the recoil will injure you. It doesn't really matter so much with small bore, but there are big bores that can break your shoulder if you don't know how to take the impact, so it's best to get used to it from the beginning," he told Tom who began getting a bit nervous.

"Don't bother aiming too well since you won't hit anything anyway, I just want you to get used to the feeling. Now shoot," Weiss spoke somewhere to his right, but Tom didn't see him because he was focused on the black spot in the middle of the white target.

He swallowed nervously, letting his finger grace the trigger; he had dreamt about being able to hold something like this for so long. An actual weapon. All it took was one little movement of his finger and someone somewhere could drop dead if he so wanted. It was an unbelievable sense of power. If he wanted to, he could just shoot Weiss right here, right now; he had even thought about it a few times, but now that he had the chance, he didn't want to hurt the man at all anymore. Sure he resented him for what he had done, but Weiss had proven to be a lot more than Tom had given him credit for, and obviously he trusted him enough to give him a weapon; that had to count for something.

Releasing a deep breath, Tom curled his finger around the trigger, the shot breaking immediately.

He blinked, looking up at Weiss; was that it? That had been completely unspectacular.

"Do it again," Weiss ordered.

Tom reloaded, aimed, and pulled the trigger, with the same unspectacular result as before.

"Again," Weiss commanded.

Tom repeated another seven times before Weiss stopped him, pressing the red button that caused the target to return to them.

The man removed the paper target that showed Tom's shots; they were all quite a bit above the black spot which contained the numbers 7,8,9 and 10 in the very center. There was one shot, almost exactly in the middle, which obviously wasn't Tom's; his shots were all somewhere in the 1,2,3 range. Tom sighed sadly; he was an awful shot; hopefully Weiss wouldn't change his mind about training him.

~*~

Jörg stared in astonishment at the target; the boy was brilliant. All his shots were pretty much in the exact same position, and he was just too high because of the rifle settings. He smiled to himself as he put the paper target aside; obviously he had chosen the perfect person to train.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back ^^ yay. Here's the next chapter, please enjoy ^^ next one will be up by tomorrow, probably.

Weiss placed the new target in the stand before retracting it, and began twisting a screw or something around on the iron sights.

"Aim exactly to the same spot you did earlier, not lower," he ordered, placing Tom's rifle back on the chair.

Somewhat dejected due to the first shooting, Tom positioned himself again, aimed and then fired the next ten shots until Weiss stopped him again and brought the target back. This time the shots were a lot closer to the center, somewhere in the 4,5,6 region, but still a bit too high. Tom stared in astonishment.

"You'll learn how to adjust the iron sights on your own later," Weiss told him while he kept adjusting them, apparently to make the shots go lower.

"Again," he nodded.

Tom repeated the procedure; again the shots were lower, ranging between 7,8 and two were even 9s. Tom began getting excited again; maybe he didn't shoot as badly as he first thought?

"Again," Weiss commanded, retracting the target. Tom repeated, and this time he actually shot one ten. The other nine shots were spread, still slightly above, in the 9, 8 and 7 region. Tom wanted to jump up and down, but decided against it; Weiss didn't seem like the type who would tolerate something like that.

"Again," Weiss repeated, and Tom proceeded to repeat his earlier actions once more.

This time the pattern was evenly spread around the 8s, and 9s, with two shots being almost perfectly centered on the 10. Tom lowered his head so Weiss wouldn't see the grin that spread on his face; he loved shooting.

"This is all the iron sights' adjustments can do for you, the rest is all practice. By the end of the week I expect you to shoot nothing but 9s and 10s. You will receive ten targets each day, which you will number and file in a folder according to date. I expect you to show me these every day," Weiss told him while placing a new target in the stand; "You will do four more targets, and then you're done for today," he finished, leaning back against the wall again.

Tom did as he was told, and most of his shots were 9s, with a few 8s and 10s thrown in here and there. Once he was done, Weiss told him that they would be having lunch now.

While Weiss made lunch, Tom went upstairs to inspect his shoulder which had become a bit raw even though the recoil was very soft. He took his shirt off in the bathroom and stared at the bruise that had begun forming on his right shoulder. He didn't know how many shots he had made in the past two hours, but it hadn't seemed like a lot at the time. While he shot, he had barely felt the shoulder, but now it felt rather tender as he ran his fingers across it to see just how painful it was; not too bad, he realized. It looked worse than it felt.

When he arrived in the kitchen, Weiss said he could help him with the food, and Tom made salad while Weiss fried fish; Tom crinkled his nose at the disgusting smell, but said nothing, of course. He was glad that Weiss didn't force him to eat any dead animals. He tossed the boiled white beans into the salad, emptying the small dish from the fridge.

"Set up another bowl," Weiss ordered when he saw that they had used up the last batch; "Just take the ones from the bag there, and put them in a bowl with descaled water - it makes them easier to digest," the man pointed to the blue thingy in which he always put the water that they drank; Tom had often wondered what that was supposed to be for since the water here was so clean anyway, but he didn't object and put the filtered water over the beans before returning to his salad making.

Once they were seated for lunch, Weiss began questioning him about the day as always; "How many shots do you make with a small bore before cleaning it?"

"500," Tom nodded slowly.

"How many with a big bore?" he continued asking.

"Every time after using," Tom knew it was a trick question; big bores needed to be cleaned every time after being used, regardless if the shooter did one shot, or a hundred.

"And how many shots did you make today?" Weiss raised a challenging eyebrow, obviously knowing Tom hadn't been counting at all.

Tom was silent for a while, trying to think back at it; he had always made ten shots for each target, but how many targets had he used...? There were four at the end... the first one... and four in between. How much was that? Ten? No, nine. But how much was ten times nine? Tom had learned this already; he had made a multiplication chart with Natalie yesterday, but he wasn't sure if he remembered correctly. He tried to think logically about it; one time nine was nine; that much he knew. So now all he had to do was add the zero from the ten... so... ninety then? Yeah, that sounded good.

"Ninety," he replied a lot more confidently than he really felt.

Weiss gave a short nod, before questioning him on how he would proceed on cleaning the rifle.

After lunch Tom went outside to the horses again; he took a book with him so he could read after having finished with the cleaning. It was a history book that Natalie had brought him; he was particularly interested in the second world war because he was hoping to read about weapon development during that time, but it turned out that the book provided no such information whatsoever; the only thing it spoke of was large numbers of dead people and some dude named Hitler that Tom had never heard of.

Just like the two days before, Natalie came in the evening and instructed him on whatever other kids were learning in school; they didn't only study with numbers now, but also English grammar; it was a nightmare, Tom decided.

During the course of the evening, Tom's entire body became sore, and by the time he was lying in bed, he could hardly move anymore; how was he supposed to work-out tomorrow?! Or walk. Or get up. Or breathe.

When the Alarm rang to indicate 5:30, Tom rolled over with a groan, feeling like a ninety year old. Working-out sucked.

He contemplated staying in bed, but after a few minutes changed his mind; he'd rather crawl through the day than anger Weiss.

The day began just like yesterday, and proceeded in a similar fashion; breakfast, working-out, shooting, lunch, studying outside with the horses, tutoring with Natalie, dinner, and then finally sleeping. Though he thought it was impossible, it turned out he could feel far more exhausted than he had the previous day; his body just wasn't used to something like this. His bruised shoulder began to get seriously sore after the second day, and by the third day of work-outs he thought his arm would fall off.

Apparently Weiss noticed his lack of strength the following evening; "Use this," he gave him a small, green bottle that said Arnica on it; "Rub it lightly on your shoulder. Tomorrow you'll take a break from training."

Tom noticed that it was Sunday tomorrow; he remembered Weiss having told him that they were also training on Sunday, but maybe he was giving him a short break. Tom really needed it.

~*~

Worriedly, Jörg watched as the boy retreating into his room for the evening; he looked positively beat. Had he been asking too much of him?

The boy could really use a break, and skipping one day wouldn't do any harm either. Plus he had received a phone message from David, telling him to come see him in the morning; that was more than unsettling. Since he had gotten no symptoms from the boy's bite, he had actually hoped David would just call and tell him everything was fine, but obviously that wasn't the case.

After a mostly restless night filled with worrying, Jörg tip-toed down the hall to the kid's room and carefully tried the handle, but the room was locked. He returned to his room to get his pick set, and silently proceeded to pick the boy's lock. He inserted the tension wrench into the lower part of the keyhole and gently twisted to the right before inserting the pick at the top to feel for the lock pins on the roof. He pushed each of the five pins up, one after the other while twisting the wrench until they all sprung open, unlocking the door.

Jörg peeked into the semi darkness; the boy was spread all over the bed, looking a bit like an octopus, with one foot hanging off the left side.

Quietly he sneaked to his bed, fully knowing the boy would completely freak if he woke up now. Just like he had assumed, the kid hadn't turned off his alarm, which was about to go off in two minutes; clearly the boy hadn't understood that with not working-out Jörg had also meant sleeping in.

He switched the alarm off, placing it back on the nightstand and then quietly crept out of the room again, locking the door in the same way he had opened it.

Completely nervous due to the blood test, Jörg couldn't be bothered with breakfast and headed over to David's house right away; since the boy wasn't with him, he decided to just take the motorcycle; it had been months since the last time he'd used it.

"Ugh, Jörg," David groaned as he opened the door after Jörg had pounded on it for nearly five minutes. He was still wearing his night clothes and slippers, his hair sticking out randomly; "Do you know what time it is?"

"I want the results, what's going on?" he asked, pushing past David without being invited in.

"It's a quarter to six..." David grumbled as he shut the door.

"What did the tests say?" Jörg ignored his friend's unhappiness at the situation; he didn't have time to listen to David's whining right now.

With a sigh, David led him down to his office, and starting rummaging through a folder; "Stop fidgeting around, man, everything's fine," David handed him a few sheets of paper.

"Everything's fine?! Why the hell did you call me down here then?" Jörg snapped angrily, scanning over the papers.

"Because I-" David began with a yawn, but Jörg interrupted him.

"He's not sick then? No HIV?" he pressed, just to be sure that was what David was trying to tell him.

"No, nothing at all, he's perfectly fine. He had tuberculosis at some point, but probably long ago," David mused slowly, peeking over Jörg's shoulder to look at the test results.

"So he's fine? Why didn't you just tell me over the phone?!" Jörg glared angrily; he had spent half the night worrying over the test results and had half a mind of just coming over in the middle of the night.

"Because I wanted to talk about the blood analysis from the boy; the kid has serious health issues. Surprisingly enough he's disease free, but he's also lacking pretty much everything else, just like you suspected. I got you some... stuff here;" David searched through his folders for more papers; "A few natural supplements which he really needs due to his malnutrition and general absence from the sun and all that...," he handed Jörg a few more papers; "I would suggest you give him these at least a few times a week. It's dried algae, fish oil, coral calcium, vitamin C, B12, D and K," he pointed to each of the descriptions; "And make sure he drinks a lot of water," David finished with nod.

Jörg nodded slowly; it shouldn't be a problem, the boy did everything he asked him to, and he drank like a camel; obviously he hadn't had a lot of fresh water in his life.

"I took the liberty to order all this stuff online for you since you won't be able to get it in any shop around here. I also added a few small extras that I thought the boy would benefit from... catalyzed nutrients, cobalamin, etc," he shrugged, handing Jörg another paper; "You owe me $600."

"What?!" Jörg shrieked in disbelief; "$600 for supplements? Are you kidding me?"

"You want him to get better or you want to give him cheap $20 stuff that won't do him any good anyway?" David raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," Jörg sighed, shaking his head; if it would really help the kid get better.

"And be sure to feed him lots of fruits and vegetables," David chuckled.

"By now I'm pretty sure he's vegetarian, so there's not much choice left," Jörg shrugged; the boy wasn't complicated when it came to eating. Or when it came to anything else really.

"I was actually talking about stuff like candy... he does know what that is, doesn't he?" David asked suspiciously.

"Oh that... yeah," Jörg had no idea if the kid knew what candy was; Jörg didn't really eat any, at least not at home, so he hadn't thought about it at all.

"You haven't given him any candy at all? Not even some chocolate? Come on! The poor boy finally sets foot in a civilized society and you withhold him the greatest pleasure any child knows? You're so awful," David scolded him.

"Chocolate isn't that good," Jörg muttered; he didn't really like chocolate so much. He preferred ice cream; especially caramel one. Possibly cake. Brownies were good too.

"Jörg... you can't treat the boy like an animal... you're the one who chose to bring him here so now you're responsible for him. That also means you need to make sure he's at least a little bit happy. And with happy I don't mean in comparison to the miserable existence he had before, but to American standards. You know... candy, toys, pets, tv, music, pocket money, all that stuff that kids want," David finished expectantly.

"How the hell would you know what kids need and want, you don't have any," Jörg growled in annoyance; none of those were things he had thought of.

"No, but I used to be one at some point. And even though it doesn't seem like it, I'm quite sure you were one as well... long ago... maybe...," David chuckled quietly while Jörg rolled his eyes.

"So what, you think chocolate and a puppy are going to make him happy?" Jörg growled in frustration; this whole having a kid thing was a nightmare; why the hell did anyone want kids these days?

"Well it wouldn't make him eternally happy for the rest of his life, but it might contribute to his current well-being, yes," David nodded.

"Screw this, he doesn't need all that. He's got plenty of toys to play with as it is," Jörg finalized; he wasn't about to spoil the little brat.

"I'm not sure guns and rifles qualify as toys," David chuckled again while they walked out of the office.

"He's 12 - they are the perfect toys for a 12 year old boy. Show me one boy who'd rather play with something different," Jörg smirked.

"Not all boys are as weapon enthusiastic as you, and I meant something like a bicycle or a Gameboy," David gave him one of those 'displeased parent' looks.

"Yeah, cuz the boy has nothing better to do with his time than squander it away on a Gameboy. The kid can't even write properly; he's got plenty of catching up to do, and has no time for useless things such as toys and games" Jörg huffed, still really annoyed at David. Somehow lately his friend really annoyed him.

"And he will, didn't you say he's brilliant? Don't push him too hard. The boy's on his best way to becoming a serial killer... A serial killer with your killing skills... Now that's one creepy thought, so don't make things worse than they already are. If you don't treat that kid right, he could turn out to be a serious threat... more so than he is already," David gave him another warning look as he opened the door to let him out, and Jörg knew he was right; and he hated it.

He didn't know how to treat the boy right, and felt that he wasn't adequate for something like that; he wasn't cut out to be a loving parent - least of all to that boy. The kid freaked him out, and every time he was close to him he got anxious for reasons he couldn't explain. He was just plain and simply unable to communicate with him. Maybe because he reminded him too much of himself.

"Take care!" David waved cheerfully; "And don't ever wake me up so early again you bloody bastard," he chuckled while closing the door.

Jörg stuffed the papers into his jacket and strapped his helmet back on before bringing the engine to life. As quietly as possible, he pulled out of David's neighborhood and headed homewards. He decided to stop for some gas, since he was running low, and he also wanted to buy some cigarettes; he'd barely been smoking recently because he was trying not to smoke in front of the kid, but right now he really needed some.

After filling up the tank, he headed inside to pay and buy smokes. While the clerk fumbled around with the cash desk, Jörg eyed the candy bars that lined the counter; should he bring one for the kid? No, it would be better for him not to know what candy was, or he might want to eat it all the time. But of course Jörg had to think about David's words again; 'don't treat him like an animal.' But how should he treat him? The only reason he kept the boy is because he was supposed to be useful. Yes, it was just to help him; it had nothing to do with any other reason whatsoever. What did he care if the boy was happy or not, he gave him more than anyone else did, and expected the boy to make himself useful for it in return; the boy worked for him. He wasn't his son, or friend or anything else. No, Tom just worked for him. Nothing more. That was what he had offered him; a job. Not a friendship, and certainly not a family. It was just a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know these chapters contain a lot of rifle related stuff... sorry, I got carried away o.o it gets less, I promise ^^


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is moving so fast o.o maybe i shouldnt post so much because soon i wont have any chapters left to post and then you guys will have to wait a really long time until i write a new chapter.... sorry about that O.O Enjoy!

With a hearty yawn, Tom rolled over in bed; he hadn't felt this well rested in quite a while. Lazily he noticed the sun shining through the curtains, and it took him a few moments to realize that it was already in the middle of the day. With a soft shriek he jumped up, nearly falling off the bed as he searched for his alarm clock that had failed to wake him; the small, black digits indicated 9:43. Tom stumbled out of bed, pulling the entire covers to the floor in his hurry and ran out the door, into the bathroom.

After brushing his teeth hastily and yanking on some clothes, he jumped down the stair two at a time, and rushed into the kitchen.

Weiss raised an eyebrow at him as he looked up from the newspaper he'd been reading.

"I'm really sorry," Tom mumbled, waiting for the man to berate him, but Weiss just gave him an empty look.

"What for?" he asked passively, returning his attention to the paper.

Tom wasn't sure if this was some kind of test, or if Weiss really didn't know what he meant; "Sleeping so late again," Tom muttered, blaming the alarm for not having woken him, but he didn't want to make up excuses for Weiss; the man would probably not believe him that the alarm had failed. Or maybe Tom had forgotten to turn it on...?

"I told you yesterday that there was no training for you today. That means you can sleep in," Weiss informed him without looking at him.

"Oh," Tom mumbled again, wondering how it had happened that his alarm had not worked when he was allowed to sleep in; had Weiss turned it off? No way, the door had been locked. On the other Hand, Weiss was... Weiss, he probably knew how to open locked doors. A cold shiver ran up his spine as he considered the possibility; Weiss could walk in and out of his room whether it was locked or not. Yet he had never made any attempt to... do anything to Tom during the night; could he really trust the man? If Weiss could just open his locked door, why did he even bother locking it...?

"Eat something," Weiss ordered, pointing towards the pot standing on the stove.

Tom warmed the food in silence and then sat down opposite Weiss to eat; he felt a bit weird eating while the other man just sat there, reading his newspaper. Tom had the weird urge to offer him food even though he knew that the man didn't want anything; Tom had suffered hunger so often that every time he saw someone who didn't have any food when he had some, he felt compelled to share with them. Of course he didn't ask Weiss if he wanted any; that would have been so wrong.

Halfway through Tom's brunch, Weiss got up and began pulling a few plastic cans and glass bottles from a paper bag on the kitchen counter. He read the labels, and then began pouring things into a glass filled with water, and tossing a few pills into an empty cup.

"You will take these pills with this water here," he said as he placed the yellowish water and the cup with mostly green pills in front of him.

Tom eyed it suspiciously.

"They are food supplements and will make you healthier," he informed him as he returned to his paper.

"I thought I was already at the doctor for that," Tom said carefully, not sure if talking back was such a wise thing to do.

"Yes, and due to the results from your blood tests, he suggested that you take these. Since you didn't get a lot of healthy food earlier, you're missing a lot of vitamins and minerals," Weiss explained, surprisingly patient.

"What's that?" Tom asked warily, never having heard of this before.

"Something that people need in order to be healthy. You'll learn about it later," he finished, closing the conversation.

Tom just nodded, and took a few of the green pills into his mouth; they tasted awful. He washed them down with the yellow liquid that turned out to be a bit sour, but not overly unpleasant. Once all the pills were taken, Tom rinsed his plate and put it in the dishwasher while Weiss folded his paper and got up.

"I have a book for you," he said, walking towards the living room. Tom trailed after him excitedly; books from Weiss were so much better than school books, he had decided.

The man handed him a large, heavy book that said ANATOMY; Tom had heard that word before, but didn't really know what it meant.

"This book teaches you about the human body. I want you to read the part about organs, and compare it to the wound ballistics book I gave you. You will then write a report on which organs are the most lethal, and the most painful ones when injured. Make it at least two thousand words," he finished, beginning to walk away.

"W-what's a repot?" Tom asked quickly before the man went upstairs.

"...just write something," he sighed before going up the stairs.

Tom blinked a few times, but then shrugged and sat down on the couch to take a look at the book; he wondered if the man had the intention to read what he wrote, or if he was just writing it for himself. Whatever the answer was, Tom was determined to research his first repot very thoroughly and do a good Job. The fact that he was very interested in the subject also helped a lot, of course; he really wanted to know which organs were wound sensitive and which were not. He knew this wasn't only important when it came to shooting, but also in hand to hand combat which Weiss would be teaching him sooner or later because, according to Weiss, a good killer was able to kill a person in at least 270 different ways; and shooting them was only one of those. Tom couldn't wait to find out what the others were.

As it turned out the next morning over breakfast, Weiss had indeed read his repot; report, Weiss had told him. Apparently his research had been satisfactory, because the older man hadn't complained about it. Tom was very proud of it, having spent quite a few hours on it, and the fact that Weiss seemed pleased with him made him very happy. He still didn't quite get why he even wanted the man pleased with him, but there was something alluring about proving himself; Tom had never had the chance to prove anything to anyone, mostly because no one had ever cared, so this whole situation was very endearing.

No matter in which aspect of life, Tom made sure to always do his best, also because a small part of him was afraid that if he didn't meet up to Weiss' expectations, the man would kick him out sooner or later. That, and the fact that he really wanted something better for himself; he didn't want to be at the bottom for the rest of his life. Having met Weiss was very inspiring to him, making him determined to achieve something like the older man as well; he wanted an independent life with enough money to live comfortably. He wanted to be skilled and smart, with a deadly precision just like he had. When he grew up, he wanted to be just like Weiss.

It had been nearly two weeks since he had begun shooting, and every day he brought his results to Weiss before filing them in his green folder that read 'Tom's targets'. Tom had never had his own folder before, and it was even allowed to sit next to all of Weiss' inside the barn where Weiss kept all his ammunition and reloading equipment.

Every day Tom worked out with Weiss in the morning before doing their mental training that he was beginning to enjoy; it gave him an unusual sense of peace. He had become quite good at clearing his mind, and by now half an hour flew by in a heartbeat. It also affected his shooting, he hardly shot any 8s anymore, and even 10 was more frequent than 9 these days. The calm breathing, as well as the controlled tension and relaxation of his muscles really helped with his aim.

"Spread your legs more," Weiss ordered somewhere behind him, and Tom did as he was told.

"Right elbow higher," the man instructed, correcting his pose; "Now that you are a semi decent shot, we'll begin with the actual training," he continued and Tom smiled happily at the first compliment he had ever gotten from the man.

"Now relax. Are you relaxed? Good, then aim, and then close your eyes. Now concentrate on your breathing. Relax every muscle, one after the other until you're completely tension free. Now open your eyes. Are you still on the target?"

He wasn't. He was far below it.

"Again," Weiss instructed and Tom repeated the process another eight times before he was finally on the target after opening his eyes again.

"Your aim should rise and lower with your breathing. You will fire when you exhale, at exactly the moment when you're on target. However don't just pull the trigger - graze your finger over it, very softly increasing the pressure until the shot breaks so you will have a clean shot. A good sniper always knows where he hit; he doesn't need to look at the target to know whether he shot a 10 or a 9. In time you will get a feeling for this and know whether your shot was correct or not before it even hits your target," Weiss continued while Tom tried to remember what he was saying and still concentrate on standing still and aiming at the same time.

"Now do what I just told you, and shoot a 10. Not a 9 and definitely not an 8. I want a clean 10," he ordered quietly, making Tom nervous.

He had shot a lot of 10s already, but never on command.

Tom closed his eyes and concentrated on everything Weiss had just told him; Relaxing, breathing, slow pressure increase. When he opened his eyes, he was perfectly on target. He took a deep breath, watching as the iron sight rose above the tiny black dot and then began lowering while he exhaled and began increasing the pressure on the trigger until the shot broke.

"Was that a 9 or a 10?" Weiss questioned, his hand resting on the button to retract the target.

Tom had no idea; he had a pretty good feeling about it, but what did he really know?

"I don't know," he admitted quietly.

"What do you think it was?" the man questioned.

Tom wasn't sure if he really believed it had been a 10, or if that was just wishful thinking; "A 10," he finally mumbled, hoping he was right; he really wanted to be right. He really wanted Weiss to be pleased with him.

The man retracted the target, and already before it docked at the station, Tom could see that he had shot a perfect 10. He was ecstatic and couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips.

"Do it again," Weiss ordered with a challenging look and Tom wanted to scream. He didn't though; instead he positioned himself again, trying to do everything exactly the same way he had done earlier. 

"What did you shoot?" Weiss demanded once Tom fired.

Again Tom had no idea; it was absolutely impossible to tell.

It turned out to be another ten; Tom was thrilled again, but Weiss remained unimpressed, ordering him to do it again. The scenario repeated itself another four times, and Weiss was still not satisfied. Tom had shot six 10s in a row; it was unlike anything he had ever managed before.

Again he concentrated on breathing and relaxing, and then fired. But this time it was different; something had gone wrong. Tom had no idea what, but that was definitely not a 10; he could feel it.

"What did you shoot?" Weiss asked again, and this time Tom could actually give him a clear answer.

"A high 9," he replied dejectedly.

Weiss nodded; "Why?" he asked calmly; Tom had expected him to be angry, but he didn't appear so.

"I don't know..." Tom shook his head.

"Then think about it. What did you do different now than in the past six shots?" he asked as he retracted the target.

Tom knew what had been different, but didn't know what to call it; "I'm not sure... I can't pin it," he finally admitted.

"You shot too fast. The pressure on the trigger and your exhaling must be well coordinated or you'll have a dirty shot," he explained, gesturing at the target; "That's why your shot is too high."

It was a high 9 just like Tom had predicted.

"Again," Weiss ordered.

For the following days, Weiss stood in the shack with him for hours, instructing him how to shoot properly; it was so much harder than Tom had initially thought. He thought all he had to do was look at the black spot and fire, but there was so much more behind it. The more he learned about it, the deeper he was impressed by Weiss; the man was a total genius.

And the more he learned, the worse his shots got.

"Don't worry about that, it's normal," Weiss said quietly, apparently having noticed how depressed Tom was; what was going wrong? He had shot better before paying attention to all this side stuff like breathing.

"Shooting 60 out of 100 isn't hard, but shooting 998 out of 1000 is, and that's your goal. It doesn't matter that you're a little worse right now, it will get better. Most people don't ever get to that because of this; they think that they were better without being perfectionists, and so they never overcome that obstacle, and so they remain forever mediocre snipers," he continued in the same quiet voice that was stunningly reassuring; "But if you have enough endurance to perfection your shot, you will never miss a target."

Tom nodded slowly, already feeling far better; he had half thought the man would get rid of him for being useless, but somehow Weiss always surprised him. Maybe he should stop assuming things about the man; he was entirely different from any person Tom had ever met before.

The next morning over breakfast Weiss said that they wouldn't be going to the shooting range today; "We're driving out to the fields."

Tom had no idea what he was talking about or why he suddenly wanted to go elsewhere, but he seemed to be in a good mood; that was good, right?

When they were done eating, he followed Weiss to the Garage where they got into the pickup that had a few rifle bags in the back. Tom began getting excited again as they drove up the dirt road; was Weiss taking him someplace else to shoot? Shooting from the shack had become seriously mundane and boring, so Tom couldn't wait to finally get a change of scenery.

They didn't drive very far, and stopped at the entrance to a narrow valley. Tom hopped out, looking around, but there wasn't much there.

"Take this," Weiss handed him a green rifle bag; "Put it over there," he said, pointing towards one of the many large rocks in the valley.

Tom placed the rifle on the rock and then waited until Weiss stood next to him and opened the other bag he had brought; "Open it," he instructed him, gesturing at the bag that Tom had.

He recognized the rifle immediately as a big bore, and his excitement doubled; he would finally be able to shoot with something interesting! Though he was rather confused as to why they were here in the valley; why weren't they just shooting at the hill at home? Surely Weiss wasn't expecting him to shoot at... something living?

Tom swallowed drily; was that what Weiss wanted him to do? Practice killing things? But Tom didn't want to kill animals - he just wanted to kill people.

"I don't want to do this," Tom stated firmly, hoping Weiss wouldn't notice how scared he was.

"What?" Weiss looked at him, his expression somewhere between surprised and annoyed.

"I'm not going to do this," Tom stood his ground.

"The hell are you on, kid. You can't become a sniper if you can't shoot big bore," he snapped, now fully irritated.

"I'm not going to kill any animals," Tom argued weakly; he was convinced Weiss was about to shoot him.

Right before Weiss turned his head away, Tom could have sworn he saw a smile on his lips.

"We're not here to shoot at animals. I don't hunt - at least not animals," he informed him in what Tom considered to be a very gentle fashion given he had been angry a moment ago; "We're just here for some plincking; that means shooting at things such as that," he pointed into the valley, towards an old rockslide; on top of the loose rocks were old tin cans and empty beer bottles neatly placed in a row.

"It's a fun shot. We shoot quickly, not aiming too well, and see which objects we can knock down," he explained lightly; Tom had never seen the man in such a good mood before. He nodded quickly, returning to the rifle bag.

Having explained why they were there, Tom regained his enthusiasm immediately; he was also thrilled because Weiss seemed to be in such a light mood; he was almost pleasant.

"Do you recognize the rifle you have there?" he asked, gesturing at the rifle Tom took from the bag; Tom shook his head. He had seen pictures of so many rifles, and somehow they all sort of looked the same.

"It's a K98," he said with an almost smile; Tom knew this was Weiss' favorite rifle. Was he really letting Tom shoot with it?

"There's the ammo," he gestured at the small pack inside the bag; "And wear these over your earplugs, or your ears will be permanently damaged;" he handed him a pair of ear protectors; "You know how in war movies soldiers are always gesturing around with hand signals, and people think it's so that no one will hear them? It's not. It's because they're all deaf already," he chuckled softly; Tom had absolutely no idea what the man was talking about, but he was stunned by the gentle laugh which didn't sound at all hostile.

"Now before you put those on, let me explain a few things because afterwards you won't hear me properly anymore," he continued while placing the magazine in his rifle; "The most important thing for you right now is to always keep your rifle firmly pressed into your shoulder, or you could get seriously injured, understood?" he asked and Tom nodded; "Next: don't ever aim your rifle at me unless you actually want to kill me." Given the seriousness of the sentence, Tom thought Weiss was speaking rather lightly; did he know that Tom was still angry at him for that day?

"You have five shots in each magazine, and after shooting all five you will set your rifle down on the ground to let me know that you're done shooting. I will do the same when I'm empty," he indicated for Tom to place the cartridge inside the rifle chamber; "I will first make five shots while you will do nothing other than watch. Afterwards I'll show you how to shoot freely, got it?"

Tom nodded excitedly, stuffing the earplugs into his ears; he was already used to them and by now he barely noticed their presence anymore. Just like Weiss, he placed the ear protectors over them, blocking all sound effectively.

He watched as Weiss positioned the rifle on his arm, which was again resting on his hip, and then fired. The shot was stunningly loud, despite the ear protection, and Tom saw one of the glass bottled breaking into shards. Weiss ejected the casing in one fast movement, and aimed again; he repeated this another four time, all shots breaking within less than a minute. Tom didn't miss the force of the recoil that caused Weiss' upper body to lean back a few inches with every shot, and began getting a bit nervous; he wasn't sure if this was such a good idea anymore.

When Weiss was done with his five shots, he lowered the muzzle to the ground to indicate that he was out of ammunition, and removed the ear protectors; Tom did as well to be able to hear what he had to say.

"Alright," he said almost cheerfully; "I'm sure you paid attention to the recoil. It's important that you let your body sway with the impact; don't try to push against it because that would only hurt," he said as he leaned his rifle against the rock where the bags were; "Now take your rifle and stand over," he indicated.

Tom positioned himself and waited for further instructions.

"Rifle tightly against your shoulder," he reminded him, pressing the weapon closer to him; "Your feet are always sideways, and your upper body turned towards your target," he grabbed Tom's Body, turning it until he was standing correctly; "Feet further apart," he ordered, nudging Tom's feet with his shoes; "Now lift your rifle; left hand on the lower hand guard; left elbow on your hip. Lean back slightly," he pulled Tom's upper body back a bit with one arm wrapped around Tom's shoulders while his other hand was placed on the small of Tom's back to steady him; Tom got a bit nervous at the sudden close contact, but tried to remain focused while Weiss placed him in the correct position.

"The rest is just like small bore; relax, breathe, aim, increase pressure, fire," Weiss took a step back, placing the ear protectors first over Tom's ears, and later his own. He gave Tom a nod indicating for him to fire.

Tom relaxed as much as his excited state would allow, took a few deep breaths and aimed at the row of bottles. He tried the whole pressure increasing, but it wasn't really working; the trigger wasn't moving.

Slowly he lowered the rifle until the muzzle was on the ground, and then gave Weiss a helpless look.

"What?" Weiss asked, closing the two steps between them to stand next to him.

"It's not working," Tom mumbled stupidly.

"What? Louder, I can't hear anything you're saying," Weiss removed the ear protectors from his head.

"It doesn't work," Tom repeated a bit louder.

"Let me see," Weiss took the rifle from him after placing his ear protection back on. He found his position in less than a second's time, and the shot rang out a moment later.

He lowered the rifle again and raised an eyebrow at Tom; "It works perfectly fine," he shrugged.

Tom swallowed and nodded, taking the rifle back and positioning himself again; maybe the rifle just didn't like him.

He did everything as before, but again was unable to pull the trigger; 'What in the world?' Tom thought in panic. He turned his head a little to look at Weiss who was standing a bit behind him to the left. The man sighed and rolled his eyes, walking over to him and placing his hands right above Tom's, pulling him tightly against his chest and pressing the rifle firmly into Tom's shoulder; Tom wanted to screech and run away from the terrible closeness, but of course didn't dare and just stood there, rooted to the ground while Weiss' finger pressed his to the trigger until the shot rang out. If Tom hadn't been so scared of the man looming behind him, he would have groaned from the pain the recoil had caused his shoulder.

"The Anschütz you were shooting with has an 80g trigger. This one has a 3kg trigger - you need to pull pretty hard or nothing will happen," he spoke into Tom's ear while lifting the ear protector away so Tom could hear him. The man's hot breath ghosted across the skin of his neck, causing him to shudder; he hated it when someone was so close to him.

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded while Weiss retreated to his earlier spot. His right shoulder was aching and his arm felt as if all strength had been drained from it; this was awful, he didn't want to keep shooting.

~*~

Jörg crossed his arms, trying not to worry about the horrified expression on the kid's face. He felt the boy jump at the recoil, and easily noticed his shaking arm that could barely hold the rifle; maybe the boy wasn't ready due to his lack of muscles; he was almost unable to receive the recoil impact, and Jörg didn't even dare imagine how much that had hurt the poor kid.

He was about to tell him that they were going home, when the next shot broke, and the boy's body swayed back with the impact. He didn't actually hit anything, but that wasn't surprising with his flinching; Jörg decided to wait it out and let the boy decide how much he wanted to shoot for today. He collected his abandoned rifle again, armed it and positioned himself next to the kid, very slowly firing at the bottles and cans; it had been years since he had gone plincking; he hadn't even realized how much he'd missed it. Surprisingly enough, the boy actually hit one can.

Soon enough the five shots from the boy were up, and he placed his rifle down, just like Jörg had told him. Jörg quickly finished his last two shots and also set his rifle down.

"Done for today?" he asked, trying to sound as nice as he could.

Very indecisively, the boy shook his head; "Can I have another round?" he asked carefully.

Jörg suppressed a smile while he handed him another magazine; maybe the boy wasn't as fragile as he had first thought. He thought back at the first time he had gone big bore shooting; he'd been around fourteen at the time, and the recoil had also shocked him; he hadn't been able to move his arm for four whole days. Of course he had also done over thirty shots at the time, and that was quite something, but still.

They continued for another two rounds, but then Jörg decided to call it a day; he knew how ambitious the boy was, and how high his tolerance for pain could be, but there was no need for him to torture himself through this right now; they could just come back another day.

"Alright, my shoulder's starting to hurt, I want to go back," Jörg lied, knowing the boy would never admit to being in pain himself. He didn't really know why he was trying to comfort the kid by telling him that he wasn't the only one who was in pain, but somehow it just felt like the right thing to do.


	12. Chapter 12

Tom gingerly removed his shirt to inspect the aching bruise on his shoulder. Unlike the slightly tender spots he got from shooting many hours of small bore, this bruise was intensely painful, with the pain spreading all the way down his arm and back to his shoulder blade; he felt like someone had beaten him up - the Arnica tincture that he usually used against the bruising probably wouldn't do much good against this pain.

Without any warning, Weiss suddenly yanked the bathroom door open, staring at Tom in the mirror. Tom had to choke down a horrified yelp and spun around to face him; what the hell did he want? Tom was half naked, which generally made him nervous, and Weiss just looked at him, making it even worse.

Without saying a word, Weiss came into the bathroom and began searching for something in the cabinet where he kept all his first air things, medication and random ointments. He removed a tube of some kind and handed it to Tom.

"Don't use this too often, it's only for heavy bruises," he instructed, giving him an expectant look.

Tom nodded awkwardly; was Weiss expecting him to do this right now...? With him watching? Judging by the fact that he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the sink, he probably was.

Very self-consciously, Tom unscrewed the top of the tube, put a bit on his hand and carefully spread it over the bruise. The cold felt soothing to his skin, but only for a moment before the heat of the bruise took over it again.

"On your shoulder blade as well," Weiss recommended once Tom was done with the front.

Unfortunately Tom wasn't very flexible at the moment, and couldn't fully reach behind his own shoulder without it hurting severely. After a few unsuccessful tries, Weiss snatched the tube from his hands while rolling his eyes; he pulled him around rather harshly, trapping him between the sink and the older man's body. Tom's immediate instinct was to kick and scream, but he tried to control himself, instead staring intently while the man put some cream on his hand; Tom swallowed nervously, but didn't dare move.

There was nothing worse for Tom than having someone touch his skin, and he flinched the moment Weiss placed his hand on him. For a brief second their eyes met in the mirror but Tom quickly looked down, feeling completely humiliated that he flinched just because someone placed a hand on his shoulder; it was totally pathetic.

Against Tom's expectations, Weiss' treatment was very gentle, and didn't even hurt him; after a few moment he almost began to enjoy the soft touch, horrifying himself with the realization. The man was done in less than a minute, and for some weird reason, Tom wished that he would have taken longer; that had been so different from all the other times someone had touched him. The only other time it hadn't hurt had been at Jost's, but somehow that had been a bit different; Tom had been so scared and uncomfortable he hadn't really paid attention, but now that he had time to focus on the touch, it wasn't at all as horrible as he had anticipated.

While Weiss put the ointment away, Tom wondered if there was a type of touch that wasn't painful or uncomfortable; up until now he had always been certain there was nothing worse in the world, but maybe he had only known the wrong kind? Could something like that also be pleasant...?

Tom didn't know a lot of things that were physically pleasant; the only he had ever experienced was food and showering; everything else was awful. Especially touching. That was the worst. Everything that included other people was awful... right?

"What?" Weiss snapped, making Tom realize he'd been staring at the man; "I want to take a shower, so least you want to watch, get the hell out," he continued angrily.

Tom's eyes widened at the thought and he quickly ran out the door, shutting it firmly behind him. How could a man whose touch was so gentle be so angry just a moment later?

~*~

For some odd reason Jörg avoided looking in the mirror as he shed his clothes and stepped into the shower; what was he feeling so bad about? He felt as if he had done something wrong, even though he didn't know what.

He scrubbed the remains of the cream off his hand under the warm spray of the shower, and warily eyed his hand; it didn't have anything particularly interesting about it, but somehow he couldn't shake that awful feeling that touching the boy had given him. The boy's shoulder had been decorated with a large scar right where he'd touched it, and even though he knew the scar was old, he'd been afraid to injure the boy; the outlines of the scar had been easy to feel across his smooth skin, reminding Jörg of all the terrible things this boy had been through. He had the unusual desire to touch more of him; to know what the rest of those scars felt like. For one short moment he had the desire to show him something else; show him how good life could feel, but he quickly pushed the thought aside, forcing his mind to focus on the moment and not that wretched little kid.

A few days ago he had received a new contract in Philadelphia, and he needed to get everything ready; he couldn't afford to think about that boy right now. This would be the first time he would take the kid on an assignment, and he was rather anxious about it; how would the boy react to seeing someone being killed? This would determine whether the boy was killer material or not.

That, and Jörg was really looking forward to getting laid again; it was something he couldn't really do here at home because the village was too small, and he wasn't willing to be known as the town's whore, so he always had to wait until getting away. The last time he'd gotten some had been before his trip to Iran where he met the boy, so he was more than ready for some action; not that he couldn't handle a few dry months, but most of them weren't as stressful as these past two.

~*~

Random cities rushed by one after the other while Tom gazed out the window trying not to fall asleep. It was over 1700 miles from Cascade to Philadelphia, according to what Weiss had told him; Tom didn't really know how far 1700 miles were, but apparently a whole lot since they had been traveling all day already, and it was beginning to get dark.

Thankfully Tom had taken a few books with him, and so had been able to study most of the time in the back of the pickup, but by now he was so exhausted he couldn't concentrate anymore, and resorted to staring out the window instead.

They had eaten lunch in a small diner somewhere in Kansas City, wherever that might have been, but that had already been a good eight hours or so ago, which was why Tom was beginning to get really hungry again.

"We'll stop in a town outside of Bloomington for the night," Weiss finally told him as they got off the highway.

Tom just nodded in relief - he didn't know sitting in a car could be so tiring; it's not like he was doing much, but it was still awful. His legs and butt were sore, and he couldn't wait to get out of the car.

Finally Weiss slowed down at a roadside motel, where he parked in front of one of the rooms. Tom immediately hopped out of the car to stretch his legs a bit; did being a hit-man really require so much traveling? It was awful. Tom had been somewhat excited in the morning when they had left at nearly six am, but now he was just exhausted and unnerved.

"Get your bag," Weiss ordered, grabbing his luggage from the back-seat.

Tom took his backpack and ran after the man who was already half way to the house that had a sign saying Reception on it.

After Weiss checked them in, he gave Tom his luggage and the key with room number 9, and said he would go buy them something to eat.

Tom watched nervously as Weiss drove away, leaving him completely alone with the luggage at the motel. Panic began to rise in him no matter how much he tried to push it away; what if Weiss wasn't coming back? What if he just left him there? In the middle of nowhere all alone?

Shakily he unlocked the door and stepped inside, finding a simple room with two beds, a TV, closet and a table. Wait, two beds? In the same room? Did that mean he had to sleep in the same room as the older man? Now Tom panicked for a whole other reason; what if Weiss was coming back and he had to sleep in the same room as him?!

Not knowing what else to do, Tom sat down on the bed furthest from the door, and stared at Weiss' bag that he had placed next to the other bed. Would Weiss come back for it? Was there something important in there?

Very slowly Tom slid off the bed and stalked towards the bag, eyeing it suspiciously; it's not like he wanted to snoop through Weiss things, but he was half certain the bag was filled with nothing but old newspapers that the man didn't need anymore.

He looked at the door, just to make sure he was still alone, and then slowly pulled open the zipper from the large gym bag; it was not filled with newspapers. Tom carefully shifted through the things; clothes, mostly - a toiletry bag... and a handgun. With two full magazines.

Tom stared in fascination; he had never seen a gun up close before; rifles yes, but no guns.

He pulled it out of the holster, running his hands along the smooth, cold metal surface; he really wanted to learn to shoot with one of these someday. Carefully he lifted it, aiming at the door; the iron sights we just like with a rifle, and Tom had the strong urge to pull the trigger as he traced his finger over it.

Suddenly the door swung open, revealing Weiss holding a paper bag, who stood paralyzed in the doorframe, staring down at him. Tom's breath caught in his throat in fear; Weiss had just caught him going through his personal things - the man would kill him. Unless Tom killed him first; he stood in his perfect line of fire.

"Put the gun down," Weiss said quietly, but Tom didn't miss the nervous edge in his voice.

What would Weiss do to him if he did? Tom wasn't sure if he was more scared of the man's punishment or of being all alone with nowhere to go; whatever he did, it would end badly for him.

"Please put it away, Tom," he said softly; Tom's eyes widened a bit in shock - it was the first time the man had said his name since that time in Iran when he asked what his last name was. Usually it was always just kid, runt, brat, boy, nitwit, dweeb, or something along those lines, but never actually Tom.

Very slowly he lowered it, putting it next to the holster before getting up and going over to his bed. Weiss waited another second or so before stepping fully into the room and closing the door, locking it with the key that was still in the lock. With two strides he was by Tom's side and lifted his hand; Tom ducked his head closing his eyes, and lifted his arms to shield himself from the beating he was sure was coming. However it didn't, and after a moment he opened his eyes again to take a peek at the man who was holding the paper bag up at him with an unusual expression.

Tom swallowed loudly, and carefully took the bag from him, after which Weiss went over to his bed and placed the gun back in the holster which he put into the bag.

"I'm sorry," Tom whispered so quietly he thought maybe the other man hadn't heard him.

Weiss shot him another one of those weird looks, but said nothing as he grabbed his toiletry bag and disappeared into the bathroom.

Tom let out a shaky breath as he sat down on his bed; was Weiss just waiting for the right moment to castigate him? No matter how often the man had left him unpunished, Tom was still certain sooner or later it would happen. Especially after something as terrible as what he had just done now.

~*~

Jörg let out a shaky breath once he locked the bathroom door - he was unsure whether his anxiety came from nearly having been shot, or from the fact that the boy actually thought he would beat him. For a moment there Jörg had really thought the boy intended to kill him; he wouldn't have blamed him - he knew he was playing with fire by keeping the boy so close and giving him free access to weapons, but he just didn't know what else to do; he didn't want to get rid of him, even if there was a chance that the boy would end up killing him for what he had done to him.

Given the life Jörg led, he was quite sure he wouldn't live very long, so whether it was the boy who killed him or someone else, was pretty irrelevant. Now that he thought about it; he would prefer the boy killed him - at least then he wouldn't have to feel so guilty anymore.

A small part of Jörg's mind tried to tell him that he could also apologize, which may also result in him not having to feel so guilty, but he quickly shot the voice down; he'd rather die than apologize to the kid.

~*~

After a few minutes, Weiss was done in the bathroom; "Aren't you hungry?" he asked while he began to undress.

Tom swallowed nervously; he had been very hungry before, but now he was too scared to eat. Had Weiss planned something specific to hurt him? Tensely, Tom grabbed the sheets under his sweaty palms while he watched the other man undressing; but Weiss had promised he wouldn't do this to him. Of course that was before he knew how dumb Tom could be, but still.

Before Tom went completely insane with fear, Weiss redressed in his nightclothes and crawled into bed, switching off his bedside lamp and turning his back to Tom.

It took Tom another few minutes to calm down enough to be able to eat something, and he slowly unpacked the food from the paper bag that made loud crinkling sounds in the otherwise quiet room. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but once outside the paper bag, the food was wrapped in another paper, this time a white one, that had a napkin around it. With a soft sigh Tom cursed whoever packed it so tightly, and began the loud task of unwrapping it. Once he was finally done, he eyed it suspiciously; it looked weird. It was a small bread bun that was cut in half with things inside it; Tom had never seen something like this before, so he opened it to look what was inside - a few small salad leaves, tomatoes, and a few pieces of an odd looking round white thing. It looked very suspicious. Tom sniffed it carefully, but it didn't smell bad; apparently it wasn't meat but Tom still wasn't convinced.

"It's a tomato mozzarella sandwich!" Weiss snapped angrily after Tom just sat there for a while; he had no idea what mozzarella was.

"It's cheese. Just eat it already so I can get some sleep," the older man grumbled, his back still turned to Tom.

Warily, Tom lifted the piece of food to his mouth and took a small bite; it was surprisingly good, and his hunger returned full force, allowing him to finish the sandwich in less than two minutes, after which he quickly brushed his teeth and shut off the light once he was under the covers.

He listened intently for any sound from Weiss, but the only sound he could hear was the other man's even breathing; apparently Weiss had no intention to do anything other than sleep that night.

Despite that, Tom barely managed to sleep that night and startled at every sound, whether it was a car passing, or a cat meowing somewhere outside.

"Get up, we're leaving," Weiss' gruff voice pulled Tom from his sleep; he was completely exhausted.

He staggered into the bathroom while Weiss went to check out and deposit their luggage in the car. Two minutes after Tom was done in the bathroom, they drove out of the parking lot, a few hundred feet down the road and parked outside another small diner; Tom would have much more preferred if Weiss would have bought the food and he could have eaten it in the car. The visit to the diner yesterday for lunch had been awful; the guests and waitresses had all stared at him as if he had been from another planet even though he kept his hoodie on the entire time - Tom really didn't want to do that again.

Unfortunately Weiss didn't care for his discomfort, and so they had a quick breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs and toast, before driving back on the highway for another six hours or so.

Tom busied himself with reading until they stopped for lunch outside of Pittsburg; he really wanted to ask when they would be arriving, but didn't dare.

"Any dessert for the gentleman?" the elderly waitress asked, smiling down at them once she had cleared away their lunch.

"No. Check please," Weiss replied gruffly, and the lady nodded.

Tom really wanted to know what this dessert thing was that waitresses always offered and Weiss always refused, but he was too scared to ask; he was certain he would find out sooner or later.

After another four to five hours, Tom finally saw the Philadelphia sign where they got off the highway; these past two days had been awful, and he shuddered at the fact that they had to go back all that way again.

After driving through the city for a while, they parked in an alley somewhere downtown; it didn't look very nice in comparison to the rest of the city that Tom had seen so far; why didn't they stay elsewhere? He didn't like it here.

Apparently Weiss didn't care, because they carried their bags over to a small, rundown hotel called St. Paul's, where Weiss checked them into separate rooms; Tom was very relieved when the man handed him the key to his own room that he didn't have to share with anyone.

"First thing in the morning we're driving out to investigate our target. He goes jogging every day from 8:30 to 9:15, and we will find out where a good place is to take him down, understood?" Weiss said while he unlocked the door to his room which was right next to Tom's who just nodded.

"I want you to bring up all my bags and leave them in my room while I'll go get us something to eat," he tossed the keys at Tom while he entered the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Tom out in the small hallway on his own.

Hurriedly he unlocked his own room and went to investigate what was inside it - not much, he realized at first sight. It had an old, rusty bed in one corner, a desk and a small closet; it looked just like the last room they had been in. Tom dumped his bags by the desk, and returned back down to the car to bring up Weiss' remaining things.

After hauling the two rifle cases and Weiss' other bag up the stairs, Tom returned to his room to wait for the promised food that he was really looking forward to.

"I'm going out, don't bother me at night," Weiss ordered, tossing Tom a bag of food before slamming the door a good half hour later.

Tom blinked a few times; he was going out? Out to where? Did that mean the man wouldn't be here all night?

Shrugging, he began inspecting the content of the bag which turned out to be a box with strange symbols on it, containing noodles with vegetables; it was delicious.

The rest of Tom's evening went by with studying, until he fell asleep on the strange smelling bed. However he woke up just a few hours later by an unusual sound coming from the room right next to his; it was the quiet creaking of the awful iron beds, and what sounded like a woman - Tom listened intently; was that coming from Weiss' room?

He tried to distinguish the sound, but it was too quiet so he couldn't quite place it - he wasn't sure if the woman sounded as if she were in pain or not. What was she doing in there? Wasn't Weiss supposed to be in there?

A dreadful feeling crept into his stomach as he began to realize the situation; Weiss was hurting her! Frantically he stumbled out of bed, switching on the light; he had no idea what he intended to do, but he couldn't just sit here and listen while the older man did something like that to someone.

Without a second thought, he dashed into the hallway and knocked loudly on Weiss' door, immediately silencing the woman's moaning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, poor Tom... hes so confused....


	13. Chapter 13

After nothing happened for another few seconds, Tom tried again, determined not to let this happen to the poor woman. A moment later, Weiss ripped the door open, fuming down at him - Tom took a step back, not only intimidated by the man's angry expression, but also by the fact that he was wearing nothing but a sheet around his waist.

"Someone better be dead, or you will be," he snarled quietly.

"Stop it, you can't do something like this," Tom pleaded, not even knowing what he was trying to achieve; he knew he couldn't really stop Weiss, and he was scared out of his mind, but he refused to just give up.

Weiss was silent for a moment, his expression going back and forth between anger and confusion before he opened the door wider for Tom to be able to look past him. On the bed was a naked young woman with tussled hair who pulled the sheets up to her chest with a shriek as she saw him.

"Ugh! What is that?" she asked horrified; "Close the door!"

Weiss closed it a bit again, cutting her from Tom's view; "Oh don't worry, she's here more than willingly, I assure you that. And I hope you took a good look because that's something you, ugly freak, will never ever have in your bed," he sneered with a malicious smile before slamming the door in Tom's face.

~*~

Jörg felt like punching himself; how could he have said that?

"What the hell was that?" asked the girl form the bed; Jörg couldn't really remember her name. Betty? Barbara? Bianca?

"Never mind about that," Jörg sighed with a dismissive movement of his hand.

The girl shrugged; "Are you coming back to bed?" the girl giggled softly, reaching out her hands to him.

Pushing aside the mental image of the boy's devastated eyes, he walked back to the bed, trying to smirk down at the girl and resume his earlier activity.

Suddenly her curvy body didn't appeal to him anymore, and he tried to avoid looking at her; he didn't even want to be here anymore - he felt cold and desolate, and would much rather have been alone right now. Closing his eyes, he tried to block out all thoughts and the horrible sounds she was making, and only focus on that one part of his body that he wanted to feel right now.

However no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep the boy's face out of his head - what was wrong with him today? He was in bed with a sexy young girl, and all he could think of the despicable brat.

Silently Jörg cursed the boy and his haunted eyes; ever since he took that damned child in, his life had turned into a total mess — he couldn't even have sex in peace anymore.

~*~

Tom stood rooted to the ground for a few seconds in which he listened to the woman giggling inside the room; was she really there willingly? Why? Why would someone choose to do something like that? And with someone as horrible as Weiss above all people?

Shakily he staggered back to his room, trying to ignore the words from the older man; Tom knew that no one, least of all a pretty woman like that, would ever spend time with him willingly - no matter what they were doing, but hearing it like that was still somewhat harsh. Tom always avoided thinking of how things would be once he grew up; he knew that he would spend the rest of his life alone, but no matter how much he tried to tell himself that that was ok, somewhere deep down it made him bitter and anguished. He hated being alone. 

Once back in his bed with the lights off, he pulled the covers over his head, trying to block out the sounds from the room next door. Now that he knew what was happening, he realized that the woman did indeed sound somewhat different than the last time Tom had heard someone during this activity; Weiss had been right - she was there willingly, even if Tom couldn't quite understand why.

He had always believed that there was always only one person who found pleasure in this activity, while the other had to suffer for it; had he been wrong? Could both people involved enjoy something like that? But how? Tom had had enough sex to last him a lifetime, but not a single one of those times had been anything but agonizingly painful, and he couldn't imagine ever feeling pleasure during such a terrible situation, so why was that woman there willingly? How could she find pleasure if Weiss was doing to her the exact same thing that he had done to Tom when they had met?

Perhaps she was just masochistic like that; Tom had heard that some people enjoyed pain — something he would never understand because to him there was nothing worse than feeling pain.

The unbearable sound from the woman and the creaking of the bed continued for another five minutes or so, during which Tom didn't hear a single sound from Weiss himself, until it eventually ceased, leaving everything silent except for the city noise outside.

 

The next morning Tom waited anxiously in his room, unsure what would happen next; it was already 7am and Weiss still hadn't shown up. Should he go over there? But he didn't really dare after last night's death threat from the man - surely he didn't actually mean to kill him though, right?

Eventually he heard the man shutting his door in the hall, and a moment later he knocked; "Let's go kid."

Tom jumped up and opened the door, warily looking up at him, but his expression was unreadable as he began walking down the stairs, not waiting for Tom while he locked his door.

Without eating any breakfast, Weiss took them to a nearby park, where they began wandering around aimlessly; Tom was really confused and hungry.

"There he is," Weiss said quietly, and Tom followed his sight that was set on a jogging man in a blue-black tracksuit.

"We will watch which route he takes today and tomorrow. If it's the same on both days, we'll come back tomorrow in the evening to find an adequate spot from which we can kill him," he continued softly while they began sauntering after the jogging man, not walking along the paths but strolling through the grass to cut curves and keep up with him.

Just like Weiss had predicated, the man was done at 9:45 sharp, after running through parts of the park and eventually ending in front of his building.

Once done with their observations, Weiss finally said they would eat something; Tom was starving.

Like always it was a small diner and Weiss refused the offered dessert. Tom was determined to have this someday; some day he would go to a diner without Weiss and accept whatever this mysterious thing was that the other man didn't want.

After breakfast they didn't drive back to the hotel the way Tom had expected, but instead back on the highway; were they already going home? But the target wasn't dead yet. Again he didn't want to ask, and so they just drove in silence for over an hour, until Tom saw the ocean in front of them; this was definitely an interesting development.

They continued through the large city, often losing sight of the ocean, but overall it seemed to be coming closer; were they going there? Not that Tom minded the unusual trip, but it was more than confusing since Weiss had said nothing of where they were headed or what they intended to do here.

Another short while later, Weiss drove into a large garage and parked the car; Tom had never been in an underground parking before, and was deeply impressed with the giant structure.

Silently he followed the older man through the garage until they stood in front of a metal double-door and Weiss pressed a button next to it; nothing seemed to happen except for the small light on the button that went on. Tom sent the man a confused look, but he just stood there waiting, looking at the doors which finally opened after a soft ringing tone.

The doors led into a tiny room with nothing but a mirror on the back wall - Weiss entered and gave Tom an expectant look, but Tom had absolutely no intention to go in there with him; just looking at the tiny room made him claustrophobic. The doors began closing again, but Weiss stopped them by putting his hands in between them; "Get in!" he snapped in annoyance.

Tom was still indecisive, but too frightened to disobey a direct command, so he just walked into the room, nervously waiting for the doors to close. Weiss pressed another button from the many that were next to the door, and the doors closed, locking him inside with the other man. Suddenly the entire room trembled and began to move; Tom nearly shrieked and jumped towards Weiss, grabbing the man's arm in total panic - he just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Wh-what's happening?" he asked horrified, staring up at the man's calm expression.

"It's an elevator. It'll take us up the two stories that we just drove down, so we don't have to walk up the stairs," he explained calmly; "It's like the electric staircases you saw at the airport, but a bit faster," he finished, twisting his arm out of Tom's grasp with a glare.

Tom mumbled a quiet apology, taking a step back as the doors opened with another chiming sound, revealing a busy street; Tom nearly ran out of the awful room, brushing past a few people who apparently wanted to get in there. He was in total awe; the room had magically taken them from one place to the next in a matter of seconds.

Slowly Weiss joined him, beginning to walk down the busy street. They turned a few corners, and suddenly Tom stood in front of a perfect view of the giant Statue of Liberty that stood a few hundred yards away on its island in the water.

Tom nearly squealed with happiness as he ran towards the railing of the street to get a better look. It was the most amazing sight he had ever seen; it looked so much better than in the pictures.

~*~

Jörg almost had a heart attack as the boy suddenly ran across the street, nearly being hit by various cars who honked loudly; the kid didn't even seem to hear them. Quickly he hurried after him before he got himself killed, and caught up with him right before the boy could jump over the railing.

"Hold it!" Jörg snapped, grabbing the boy's arm to pull him back; "There's a perfectly good street that leads down to the harbor."

The boy turned his head and smiled brightly at him; Jörg nearly forgot to breathe for a moment while he stared at the boy's radiant expression. It was the first time he had ever smiled directly at him; not at random airplane sights or horses, but actually at him — the sight was mesmerizing.

"Let's just... street and... yeah," Jörg nodded, having forgotten what he had wanted to say a moment ago.

The kid nodded enthusiastically and let Jörg guide them down the few streets that led them to the harbor where countless tourists were running around taking pictures. Bewildered, Jörg noticed that he hadn't released the boy's arm yet and was still holding him close as to not lose him in the crowd; the boy didn't seem bothered at all as he stared around with wondrous eyes and a radiant smile that Jörg could barely look away from; he quickly released his arm before anyone noticed.

They reached the railing that separated them from the water, and Jörg leaned his elbows against it, trying to keep his sight on the statue instead of the boy next to him.

"Erm," the boy cleared his throat awkwardly and Jörg turned to look at him; he looked torn between nervous and happy while he twisted the hem of his hoodie in his hands, looking back and forth between the floor and Jörg who just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Thank you for bringing me," he finally mumbled, smiling shyly.

Jörg just blinked, unable to reply; had the boy seriously just thanked him for something? Why was he smiling like that after the horrid things Jörg had said to him last night?

~*~

Tom turned back to looking at the statue; Weiss expression made him a bit nervous. He didn't really know what the look meant, and since the man hadn't said anything, he didn't know whether he was mad or not. Tom really didn't understand why they had even come here; he had been so certain that Weiss was ready to kill him in the morning, and now suddenly they came here? He well remembered the man telling him that they wouldn't be coming here because it was too far away; what had changed his mind? Sure they were only a bit over an hour away due to the assignment, but Tom hadn't even known that, so it really wasn't a reason — plus, even if he had known it, that was still no reason for Weiss to care enough to actually come here.

The man's behavior was confusing; sometimes he said such hurtful things, like last night, and then he did such amazing things like right now — Tom had no idea what to think of it.

They spent the afternoon by the harbor and ate in a small restaurant with view of the statue; Tom could barely pay attention to his food because of it.

"Would you like something for dessert?" the waiter asked while picking up their empty plates.

"No, just the check," Weiss said, like always. Tom sighed quietly; when would he finally find out what this mysterious dessert thing was?

The hour and a half drive back to Philadelphia was spent in silence, just like all their drives, and Tom stared dreamily out the window; today had definitely been one of the best days of his life. He had finally seen the Statue of Liberty, and Weiss hadn't said a single mean thing to him all day; he was almost pleasant company — why couldn't the man always be this nice?

 

"Is your aim set?" Weiss asked softly right next to him, and Tom nodded, watching their target approach through the telescope attached to his rifle.

"When do you fire?" Weiss questioned. They had spoken about this yesterday in the morning after finding out that the man always took the same route; they would take him out right after he passed the row of trees that shielded him from too many onlookers.

"Now," Tom replied, increasing the pressure on the trigger; it was nothing but dry training for him, but he still concentrated on the moving target as he heard the soft clicking from his rifle as he pulled the trigger - a millisecond later the shot from Weiss rang out, effectively hitting the target square in the chest.

~*~

Jörg watched through his telescope as the man fell down to the floor, twisting in agony as the ground around him turned red. He moved his head an inch to watch the boy, and half expected him to be throwing up or something, but he just watched with an empty expression while the man slowly bled to death; he didn't look at all shocked - he didn't even flinch. Jörg remembered the first time he had seen someone being killed; it nearly made him sick. Unlike death in movies, it was never immediate even if it was a heart-shot; it always took a few endless minutes until the victim finally stopped twisting around and died.

The boy's cold expression caused a shiver to run up his spine; the boy would turn into a coldblooded killer soon — there was no doubt about it.

~*~

Tom watched patiently while the man moved around a bit before he was crowded by onlookers who ran around hysterically, some trying to help him while others just fled in all directions.

Finally Weiss got up, secured his rifle and placed it back into the bag; Tom followed his example, putting away his unused rifle that had just been for practice.

"So," Weiss began with the next lesson while he closed the window from which he had shot; "Why do we always shoot from the back of a room, never directly from the front of the window?"

"Because otherwise the muzzle flash could be visible, and perhaps even the silhouette of the sniper," Tom replied firmly as he helped Weiss move the table back to its original position in the middle of the room.

Weiss just nodded; "Why do we never shoot through closed windows?"

"Because the close glass may cause a bullet diversion resulting in a near, or total, miss," Tom replied, placing the few objects back on the table, making sure to leave everything exactly the way it was on the pictures Weiss had taken before they moved anything.

Once everything was back in its original place, they left the apartment that belonged to a woman named Mallory Salmon; she worked in a bank from 08:00 to 16:00, and returned home at 16:25, giving them plenty of time to clean up after themselves before leaving.

"Lock it," Weiss ordered, waiting while Tom fumbled around with the picks and the lock; he had managed to open it in about four minutes, but closing was a whole other story.

Finally, after nearly six minutes, the door was locked, concealing any evidence that they had ever been there. 

The drive back home was similar to their earlier journey, and Tom was relieved once they finally made it home.

He dropped into his bed, not bothering with anything anymore; it was almost midnight and tomorrow he had to get up at 5:30 for training again.

It was a few days after they had returned from Philadelphia, when Weiss came into the shack during Tom's target practice in the morning; he was carrying a handgun and a few magazines.

Tom got up from the iron cot, placing his rifle on the ground. He'd been practicing in prone position today; the only position he was now missing was kneeling, but that would come later.

Weiss handed him the gun, giving him a sharp look; obviously he hadn't forgotten that little gun incident a few days ago.

"This is a Glock 17, with a 9mm Luger caliber," he handed him one of the magazines; "Give it a try."

Tom pushed the magazine into the grip and then slowly lifted the gun until he had a clear line on the iron sighs.

"Stop," Weiss ordered, and Tom quickly removed his finger from the trigger, sending him an uncertain look.

"Both hands on the gun. Use your left to cup your right so you can steady it vertically and horizontally. Align your thumbs left and right — you'll be more accurate, but be sure that they are clear from the slide and the hammer. Keep in mind this pops back very quickly and can easily bite you if your hand is behind it," Weiss pushed Tom's hands a bit out of the way so they wouldn't be caught in the slide before he stretched his arms a little more; "Right arm almost fully stretched, but not entirely or the recoil can injure your elbow. Don't ever shoot sideways; I know this looks very cool in movies, but it's very dangerous because the ejecting casing, which is extremely hot, can easily hit you in the face," Weiss twisted his hand sideways to show what he wasn't meant to do; "And make sure your wrist is always straight, or you could strain something," he finished, moving away again to give Tom space to shoot.

Tom aligned the sights, aiming at the target just the way he did with the rifles, and slowly increased the pressure on the trigger until the shot broke; the recoil, though present, was nothing in comparison to big bore rifles, so Tom didn't even flinch at it.

Weiss pressed the button to retrieve the target; horrified, Tom noticed that he had only shot a 5. It had been weeks since he had shot a 7, how could this be so much harder than with rifles?

"Practice," Weiss said and placed the four magazines on the counter of the shack before turning around to leave without another word.

Tom sighed; this was going to be a long process.

The following two weeks Tom spent in intense training with Weiss and school education with Natalie in the evenings; the school education was going far better than the other training he was trying to acquire.

The training with Weiss was an impossibly slow progress, and Tom had the feeling he wasn't improving at all; no matter how much he trained, he didn't feel fitter or stronger or faster — how long did one have to do this before seeing results in anything? Tom was beginning to get discouraged.

"Concentrate!" Weiss snarled when Tom nearly fell off the balance beam; he didn't even know why he had to do this training. Weiss had once said that balance was very important for body control, which Tom was apparently lacking a lot, and so now he had to walk back and forth, forwards and backwards, along the beam and supposedly someday be able to do it on his hands — though Tom was almost sure Weiss had been joking with that.

Two days later, however, Tom found out Weiss hadn't been joking, because he himself was indeed capable of doing this.

Tom stared in amazement as Weiss walked a few steps along the beam on his hands before standing back up and jumping off it in a backflip — there was no way Tom would ever be able to do that; that was absolutely impossible.

"I expect you to be able to copy that by next year," Weiss said coldly, beginning to walk away.

Tom stared after him in total shock; how could he possibly do that? He had begun with various flexibility and hand-to-hand combat trainings already a few weeks ago, but what Weiss was expecting of him was insane.

By now Tom knew that sniping was only one of Weiss' many talents, and that his training was far broader than he had believed it to be. By this time in two years, Weiss expected him to have mastered short range physical confrontations as well as 900 yard shots. And above all that, he was supposed to attend high school.


	14. Chapter 14

Tom's life carried on regularly for the following weeks, which were filled with absolutely nothing but painful training and tiring school work. Weiss was obviously determined to teach Tom how awful the world was, while Natalie tried to show him the opposite; Tom didn't know what to believe anymore.

According to Weiss, life was an unfair, cruel, deceitful place that was terrible in every aspect - while, according to Natalie, the world was an amazing place filled with opportunities, friends, love and candy (whatever that might be).

He began having the impression that both were right; the world was a terribly amazing place filled with unfair opportunities, cruel friends and deceitful love. And candy.

That morning, however, Tom felt terrible when he woke up: his throat was sore and he could barely stand up. Shakily he reached up to his face to feel at the burning fever; it had been a while since he'd been sick like this, and back then he didn't have to go to training at 5:30am.

Daintily he walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth before going down to breakfast which he really didn't feel like having; he felt terrible, but was too afraid to stay in bed.

After forcing some fruit salad and a vegetable smoothie down his throat, he followed Weiss to the fitness room, shivering from the stunning cold that had somehow found its way into the usually warm house.

While Weiss began with his usual routine, Tom tried to follow his, but found himself nearly incapable of moving; he had practically no strength, and the usual 44lbs suddenly felt like 100.

"What is wrong with you, you're even more useless than usual," Weiss growled, lifting the weight bar off him.

"I'm sorry," Tom mumbled in his usual dejected fashion; he was really trying but it was just too much for him right.

"And you look worse than usual, who'd have thought that was even possible," he mocked with a harsh laugh.

Tom looked away, not wanting to meet his cold gaze, and continued his training for a while until Weiss walked over again, eyeing him suspiciously.

"You're sweating and shivering, what's wrong with you?" he asked, placing his palm against Tom's forehead.

"Nothing," Tom flinched away from the cold hand, quickly shaking his head; he didn't want Weiss to know he was ill - he would just be angry.

"You're ill," Weiss observed flatly.

"I'm sorry," Tom answered quickly, taking a precautious step back.

"You useless little twat! Get to bed. Now!" he snarled angrily, pointing towards the door.

Tom hurried away, not wanting to be the target of Weiss' anger. No matter how relieved he was to be going back to bed, he was downcast because he had disappointed and angered the other man; why did he have to so weak and get ill?

~*~

Jörg was about to panic. That stupid child, how could he just run around here while he was practically burning; didn't he know how dangerous it was to work-out while ill? No, of course he didn't, how could he.

Hurriedly, Jörg stalked to the phone, abandoning his training for today, and rung up David.

"Hello?" David answered groggily, obviously still half asleep.

"Tom is sick, get over here," Jörg snapped, hanging up the phone without further explanation.

After a hasty shower, he proceeded to make some tea for the kid, all the while cursing David for taking so long.

Finally, while the tea was cooling, the doorbell rang to indicate that David had arrived.

"Finally, what the hell took you so long?" Jörg snarled impatiently, pulling him inside.

"So long? You called me twenty minutes ago, and it's a fifteen minute drive...and I was still in bed!" he complained loudly.

"Stop whining and get upstairs before he dies," Jörg shoved him towards the stairs impatiently.

"Dies?" David asked alarmed; "What's he got?"

"How should I know, you're the damned doctor. Now do something," he ordered sternly, storming back into the kitchen.

No matter how much he wanted to go upstairs, he didn't dare, so he just paced up and down the kitchen, waiting for David to come back down.

"Well?" he snapped impatiently once David entered the kitchen.

"He's got a sore throat and a fever, Jörg," David smiled patiently.

"Did you prescribe him something?" Jörg demanded.

"...are you kidding? For a bit of fever and a raspy throat?" David raised an eyebrow; "You don't even take medication when you're half dead, like that tonsil infection you had a few years ago, remember? And you want me to prescribe him something for a simple fever?"

"Just do something useful," Jörg growled moodily; he wasn't a big fan of pharmaceuticals, but that was just with himself - he could handle being sick for a few weeks, but with Tom it was something else... he was so fragile as it were, what if something happened to him? The mere thought made Jörg's skin crawl.

"He's going to be fine," David assured him with an amused smile; "Stop freaking out over it, it's just a fever. Let him stay in bed for a week, give him plenty of tea and candy, and he'll be good in no-time."

"Candy? What kind of a retarded prescription is that from a doctor, are you trying to kill him?" Jörg snapped with a glare.

David chuckled; "Fine, so give him fruits then. The candy is meant as moral support, which the boy obviously can't expect from you," he pointed out disapprovingly.

"He doesn't need moral support, he needs medication," Jörg insisted.

"No, he needs rest and lots of tea. Maybe some chicken-noddle soup," David insisted; "And if you visit him and ask him how he's feeling every once in a while, it wouldn't hurt either," he added drily.

"You're useless. Get out," Jörg stated flatly.

"Yeah yeah, I'll come back in a couple of days and see how he's doing. Make sure he doesn't exert himself," David smiled brightly while walking to the door.

Jörg grumbled a few unflattering words at him before returning to the kitchen to get the tea for the kid.

After placing it all on a tray together with some fruits, he slowly walked up the stairs, getting a bit edgy as he approached the boy's door; what was he being nervous about? It was just a sick kid, no big deal. Of course Jörg had never taken care of anyone but himself before, so this whole... taking care of someone when they were sick was totally new to him, and he had no idea what to expect or how to handle the situation.

With a quiet knock, he pushed the ajar door open and stepped inside, finding the boy curled up in bed. He sat up immediately as Jörg walked in, looking miserable and guilty.

"I'm feeling a lot better, I can get up again," he assured Jörg, even though it was obvious he was lying; he was pale and sweaty, and his eyes were fever glazed.

"Shut up and drink this," Jörg growled, placing the tray on the nightstand; "I don't want to see you out of bed in the next week, understood?" he snapped sharply.

The boy looked horrified, and Jörg half expected him to say something, but he didn't.

"Drink that," he said again, crossing his arms while he waited for the boy to drink the tea, but he obviously didn't want to. It took him a moment to grasp the boy's dilemma and he nearly laughed; that kid was so weird. Jörg had almost forgotten that the boy didn't really understand him so well and took everything he said figuratively.

"Unless of course you need to go to the bathroom. You can leave your bed for that, but nothing else," he said as passively as he could.

Apparently this had been the boy's problem because he nodded and took the tea, drinking all of it in one large gulp, and Jörg was glad the tea had had enough time to cool off before he brought it up.

"I'll get some more... are you hungry? Do you want some soup? Are you cold? Because you're shivering. I'll get you another blanket," Jörg bit on his tongue to keep himself from rambling, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on his way out.

~*~

Tom blinked after an angry Weiss; what was wrong with him? He seemed so upset. With a shrug, he poured himself some more tea and snuggled into his blankets. This was almost nice. Last time he had felt this bad no one had cared at all; he had been left lying in his cell just like always, feeling as if he were about to die. Everything here was so different - Weiss apparently cared that he wasn't feeling well, since he had even called Jost over, and now he was getting tea in bed. Yes, this was definitely nice, Tom decided with a small smile. It felt nice that someone cared that he was ill.

"And make sure to drink a lot," Weiss reminded him for the fourth time that day. He had, again, dropped by with more tea and an unusual object that lay on the tray next to the bowl with watermelon.

Tom nodded, taking the mug to indicate that he was going to drink while Weiss left, closing the door again. After drinking, he set the mug back down, eyeing the unusual thing on the tray; it was an elongated, semi round object wrapped in brown plastic with large blue letters on it that read snickers. Tom eyed it suspiciously; what was he supposed to do with that?

After inspecting it thoroughly, Tom carefully got up and placed it on the shelf above his bed; it looked very nice next to his books - perhaps it was a gift from Weiss to make him feel better. No one had ever given Tom a present before, so this was very special, and Tom made a mental note to thank the man later.

With a happy smile, Tom switched off the light and fell asleep with the happy feeling that someone in the world cared that he was ill, and wanted to make him feel better with a snickers decoration.

The next morning Tom woke up due to Weiss' soft knock, only to realize it was already lunch time.

"Eat this," Weiss said sternly, placing a bowl with noodle soup in front of him.

Tom nodded, taking the spoon from the tray and settling more comfortably so he could eat properly. "Thank you very much for the sniggers," Tom said awkwardly while he began eating his soup.

"Snickers," Weiss correctly flatly, but said nothing else before leaving.

Tom nodded again; "Snickers," he said into the empty room, testing out the new word. What did that even mean, snickers? He had never heard it before, or read it in any of his books.

It wasn't until four days later when Tom was feeling much better, except for an awful cough that he had now, that the snickers topic was brought up again.

"Why didn't you eat that?" Weiss asked pointedly, glaring at the snickers that was still sitting on Tom's shelf.

"E-eat what?" Tom asked nervously, not really knowing what Weiss was talking about. The man had actually just come up to bring him lunch, but now he looked cranky and Tom was scared.

"The snickers," he replied with a glare.

Tom didn't know what to say to that; snickers was food? "Oh. I'm sorry... I didn't know that was edible," he said stupidly; Tom had never seen such strangely packed food before.

"Well eat it," Weiss grumbled, grabbing the snickers from the shelf and tossing it in Tom's face, nearly causing him to spill the soup on the bed.

"O-ok," Tom stuttered, sad at the fact that the snickers wasn't meant to make him feel better after all, but was just some type of medication that he was supposed to have taken. On the other hand... medication that made him feel better was... also there to make him feel better, so it wasn't too bad.

Weiss slammed the door in his usual fashion, leaving Tom alone with his soup and snickers medication. He didn't really want to eat it, because he already felt better, so there was no need for it - plus he had already gotten attached to it as a present, and wanted to keep it.

After finishing his soup, Tom got up and hid the snickers in a drawer; hopefully Weiss wouldn't ask to see the wrapping.

It took another two days and another visit from Jost until Tom was feeling well enough to venture beyond the toilet, and dare to set foot in the lower parts of the house again.

There was no sign of Weiss anywhere, so Tom decided to go outside a bit, to see what the horses were up to; he missed them a lot and since Weiss wasn't around to send him back to bed, he could sneak out real quick and be back without him noticing it.

Once outside, he took a deep breath of the late summer air, and headed down to the barn, which he found empty. Slowly he strolled through the fields, enjoying the late afternoon sun; he had really missed being outside. With a small laugh Tom realized he was beginning to get spoiled; this whole awesome life thing was getting to his head, and he had actually gotten quite used to it. Nowadays sunshine, beds and food was almost normal; Tom nearly felt bad, and reminded himself not to take it for granted. Weiss could take it away just as easily as he had given it to him, after all.

Just a few yards away, Tom spotted the horses through a few trees and headed in their direction, regretting that he hadn't brought any snacks for them. Once close enough he realized, in utter amazement, that Weiss was sitting on one of the horses; or more like lying on it. The black horse, Anubis, was peacefully grazing with Weiss sprawled across its back, with his eyes closed and a limp blade of grass dangling from his lips. 

Tom almost laughed at the bizarre sight, but didn't want to disturb the other man, so he quickly took a few steps back, hoping Weiss hadn't heard him. For a few minutes he just stood there, watching while the horse slowly walked around, carrying Weiss with it, apparently not bothered by the man's presence; Tom didn't quite grasp what Weiss was doing there - was he taking a nap? Or just lying there? Weren't horses supposed to be for riding not... napping on?

Suddenly Weiss returned to a sitting position, his eyes falling on Tom with a surprised expression.

"How're you feeling?" he asked passively.

"Good. I'm sure I can start training again," he nodded quickly, not wanting to be useless for so long.

"You are never going to train sooner than one week after you made a full recovery, least of all if you had an infection. It can cause you heart or lung damage. Did I make myself clear?" he asked sternly, though his eyes weren't as cold as usual.

Tom nodded quickly; what did Weiss care if he had heart or lung damage? Did the man actually care about his long-term well-being? Tom watched him for a few moments, trying to decide whether he was being totally stupid or not, but eventually came to the conclusion that the man only cared because Tom was supposed to work for him, and if he was injured or sick, he would be even more useless than he was already, so of course it was in Weiss' best interest to keep Tom healthy. Regardless what reason Weiss might have though, it still made Tom all warm and fuzzy inside - someone cared about him, and didn't want him to be ill. It was a lot more than Tom had ever dared to hope for.

"Come over here," Weiss ordered, sitting more comfortably on his horse.

Cautiously Tom approached him, navigating between the two horses to stand beside the one that Weiss was mounted on.

"Osiris," Weiss said quietly, bending over to touch the other horse's withers; "Down," he said gently, and to Tom's amazement, the horse knelt down.

"Get on," Weiss commanded, giving him an expectant look.

Clumsily Tom climbed on the horse's back before it stood up again, holding on to its mane and neck; he was certain he would fall off any second. Luckily Osiris didn't make any sudden movements, so Tom just sat there, looking around in confusion; what were they doing here? Of course he knew that horses were often ridden, but he had always assumed with saddles and other things, not just like that in the middle of a field - it seemed somewhat dangerous.

"You're welcome to ride them any time you want. If you want to get on, just place your hand on their withers, press down gently and say 'down' - they will let you up," Weiss said before he made a soft clicking sound with his tongue upon which both horses set into motion, slowly trotting farther out into the field.

Tom clawed his hands into the horse's mane, hoping he wasn't ripping any hairs out, and clenched his knees to try and keep from sliding off; despite the fact that the horse was very fat, or... broad, or whatever one wanted to call it, Tom had the feeling he was about to slide off all the time.

"There are a few books about horses in the barn if you're interested. Or you can just ask me if there's anything you want to know," the man offered gruffly, apparently not very comfortable with his own words.

"Thank you," Tom smiled brightly at the thought that he could do this whenever he wanted. He hadn't really thought much about actually riding the horses - he'd been quite happy just to hang out with them, but if Weiss was alright with that... Tom was thrilled.

They rode along in silence for quite a while, until Tom slowly began enjoying it; once he was over the fear of sliding off, it actually became quite comfortable. The gentle rocking from side to side was relaxing, and Tom wanted to take a nap like this - of course he didn't, but the thought was there.

It was nearly an hour later when they arrived back in the barn, and Tom's thighs were very grateful to be getting off the horse. Unfortunately the horse didn't bend down for him to get off, so Tom sat there for a while, contemplating how to jump down from the huge animal without breaking his ankles in the process.

"What are you doing?" asked Weiss in annoyance; "You don't turn around before getting off, just... sit back on normally and then slide off," he tried impatiently and Tom tried to pull his left leg back over the horse's back to sit on it again, but that just wasn't working, and he nearly fell off the other side.

"For heaven's sakes," Weiss growled angrily, grabbing Tom' waist and pulling him off the horse.

Tom yelped in alarm, thinking he was about to fall to the floor, but he was safely caught between the horse and Weiss who was keeping him from tumbling to the ground. It was an unusual perspective for him because he had never seen Weiss from above before - he looked far less intimidating like that. Nonetheless the situation made Tom very uncomfortable since he was more than aware that he was helplessly trapped by Weiss' body and the horse behind him, with the man's arms on either side of him, keeping him firmly in place.

With surprising care, Weiss placed him down, stepping away from the horse and giving Tom his personal space back.

As Weiss retreated from the barn while Tom tried to shake off the uneasy feeling he suddenly had; no matter how long he already lived with Weiss, being physically close to the man made him nervous. It was completely different than with Natalie; she often hugged him randomly or sat very close to him, but that wasn't terrible at all - he enjoyed Natalie's presence a lot, whereas Weiss couldn't be too far away for Tom's taste. Yet there was something comforting when Weiss was around, that Tom couldn't quite grasp - why did he feel safer around Weiss than Natalie, even though Natalie had never done anything vicious to him?

Some strange part of him believed that Weiss was the only one who could, or would, protect him when it really came down to it - after all he had brought him here, ending the miserably life he had had until then; everything Tom was and had he owed to him, falsely making him believe that Weiss would look out for him, and keep him safe. It made him believe that Weiss would never betray his trust or hurt him like everyone else in his life had. There was nothing that Tom wanted more than being protected, and unfortunately he thought that Weiss would be one to offer him that.


	15. Chapter 15

Tom took a deep breath, watching as the cross inside the telescope settled on the target again; he had a perfect aim.

In the past few months Weiss had taken him on various assignments that were meant to prepare him for this day. Every time he had watched through a telescope and practiced dry shots on their targets, but today it was different; today his rifle was loaded. Today would prove what he had learned in the past few months under Weiss constant surveillance and harsh training.

"Don't ever forget what you're doing," Weiss said softly right next to his ear; "Don't ever forget that it's a life you're taking. That man is someone's son. Maybe someone's father, brother husband or lover. No matter what he did in his life, there is someone out there who will mourn his death, and who will curse you for what you did. When you pull that trigger you will become a murderer, and nothing in the world will ever make it undone. You will forever be branded as a killer, no matter how many years may pass — are you sure that's what you want?" he questioned quietly.

Though he heard and registered the man's words, Tom couldn't get himself to feel compassion for the man in his line of fire, or care whether someone called him a killer; there was no one in his life who cared, so what did it really matter what he did? Tom wasn't anyone's son, and he had no one who would mourn his death should he die; why should he care what other people mourned? Why should he care about someone else's suffering when no one cared about his?

For a brief second he thought that perhaps Weiss would care, but then he remembered that he only worked for Weiss; the man didn't actually care about him, he just cared what Tom did for him.

Keeping in mind all his training, Tom slowly increased the pressure on the trigger, his eyes never leaving the target. The man carried on eating his lunch, completely unaware that Tom's rifle was aimed at his chest.

The resistance from the trigger ceased as the shot rang out and the man was hit. He jerked around on the chair, clutching at his chest; through the broken window Tom could hear the distant screams that caused dogs in the neighborhood to bark.

Eventually the man fell to the floor, still writhing and screaming in pain while Tom watched through his telescope, waiting for him to die. He knew that he should be feeling bad about this, but he didn't. The terrified screaming had no impact on him whatsoever; he had screamed far worse in his life, and no one had taken pity on him. Whatever pain the man was in, it would soon end, unlike the pain Tom had had to endure so many times without anyone having mercy on him and killing him. But now... now it was up to him who got to live and who got to die. He could decide how much they had to suffer before death Now he finally had control over someone else's life.

The unimaginably strong feeling of power and control surged through his veins like poison, filling with him with a satisfaction unlike any he had ever known before.

"Yes," he whispered softly, turning to look at Weiss; "This is what I want."

~*~

Jörg felt his skin crawl at the boy's words and the look in his eyes; maybe this had been a mistake. David had been right; the boy was a dangerous psychopath. Either that or he had done this before. Maybe both.

The boy appeared more collected than Jörg felt after killing someone, even though he'd been doing it for nearly 20 years. Killing was just one of those things that never became normal; no matter how many people he had killed, it was a rush every time, and every time he fought the guilt he felt for it. A guilt that the boy didn't seem to be feeling at all.

"Let's go," he said quietly; the screaming was one of the worst parts of the job, in Weiss' opinion, and the fascinated way in which the kid was watching, freaked him out — he just wanted to leave.

They packed up and left before the police arrived at the scene, and even though he was a bit disturbed, Jörg couldn't help but feel proud of the kid; he may be a psycho, but a very talented one.

Jörg had chosen a close assignment for the boy so they wouldn't be far from home should the boy get sick, or change his mind, so they were right outside of Denver, only an hour from home.

The drive back was spent in total silence as always, and Jörg was still waiting for a reaction from the boy; sometimes it took a while for it to actually sink in. However they arrived at home without a breakdown from the boy, so Jörg assumed it was safe to say none would come; the boy was calm and collected as if they had gone grocery shopping. Perhaps grocery shopping would unsettle the boy more than this had, since he was generally not very fond of large crowds — Jörg almost laughed at the bizarre though.

~*~

After putting the rifles away, Tom returned to the house to get himself something to drink. He intended to go back outside and maybe ride out a bit later; perhaps Weiss wanted to come with him. For some odd reason Tom almost enjoyed Weiss' company when they rode out; he was almost like a different person.

In the past few weeks, Tom had become rather decent at riding, and rode out almost every day; it was a perfect change from the strict routine he had to follow every day, and helped him clear his head from all the school things Natalie tried to stuff into his brain. Occasionally Weiss would go with him, and tell him all sorts of things about horses — all the way from their personalities, to their necessities. Weiss' horses were raised by the guidelines of something named Natural Horsemanship, which was something Tom hadn't really gotten the hang of yet, but apparently this was something very horse friendly, so Tom was determined to learn more of it. Oddly enough, Weiss was very chatty about this topic, and Tom found that he really enjoyed listening to the man.

However as he entered the kitchen, Tom forgot all about his future plans for the day, because on the table was a cake with his name on it. He had never seen one up close before and approached it cautiously; why did that have his name on it? It also had a burning candle shaped like a 13 sticking out in the middle. Next to the table there was a large... object wrapped in brown paper.

Completely stunned, Tom stared at Weiss who was leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking a cup of tea.

"Happy birthday," he said flatly.

Tom blinked in confusion a few times; he knew that people congratulated each other for this day, and the cake thing was familiar to him too, he just didn't think that Weiss would do something like that.

"Thank you?" Tom mumbled slowly, half expecting this to be a joke; was Weiss seriously giving him a birthday cake?

Weiss just shrugged; "You should blow out the candle before it melts all over the cake."

Tom nodded quickly, gently blowing the candle out. He remembered having done this a few years ago back at home with his parents. The memory brought tears to his eyes; he missed them so much. Quickly he lowered his head so Weiss wouldn't see it, and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

A hand on his shoulder startled him, and he looked up at Weiss' almost smiling face; he looked so nice all of a sudden — completely different than his usual frowning, glaring self. It was almost like when they went horseback riding together.

"Want some cake?" Weiss offered softly, actually smiling this time. Tom had to blink, completely confused by the sudden warm emotion on the man's face. Eventually he just nodded, fearing any sound would chase away the moment.

Weiss cut the cake and placed a piece in front of Tom before sitting down and eating some himself.

"It's chocolate cheesecake. My... someone I know really likes it, so I thought perhaps you would enjoy it as well," he said quietly, studying the cake.

Very slowly Tom took a piece of the cake on his fork and licked it suspiciously because it looked sort of weird. His eyes widened a bit at the indescribable taste, and he licked it again, just to be sure he had tasted it right.

"It's not poisonous... you can just eat it," Weiss said with a warm smile that was almost more amazing than the cake.

Tom took the piece from his fork into his mouth and chewed around on it, savoring the delicious taste. There was something familiar about it, and he had the feeling that he knew this taste, but he didn't know from where; could it be that he had eaten this before?

Greedily he stuffed the rest of his cake into his mouth, munching around happily; this was the best thing ever, he decided. To hell with showers and beds and all that, cake was so much better; it was definitely the best invention in human history.

"More?" Weiss chuckled quietly; he hadn't even finished half the piece on his plate yet.

Tom nodded, a bit distracted by the man's kind laugh; what was so different about it all of a sudden? He had never heard him laugh like that before; he sounded like a different person.

The man placed a large piece of cake on his plate; "Don't eat it too fast, you'll get sick," he made that soft laughing sound again.

Tom nodded again, though he was quite certain there was no way he could possibly get sick from something as delicious as this. Cake was so delicious it even had Weiss in a good mood, so that definitely meant something.

~*~

Jörg didn't bother trying to hide his defiant smile any longer as he watched the boy hungrily stuffing himself with cake; apparently David had been right again — the kid really did need some candy. It had even managed to chase away the boy's tears from earlier; what had he been sad about? An old memory? Jörg was dying to know what the boy's story was, but right now was not the time to ask that.

There was something utterly fascinating about the boy's wondrous eyes and happy smile that Jörg couldn't stop staring at. No matter how psychotic the boy was, he was also, without a doubt, the cutest psychopath Jörg had ever seen.

Maybe he really should try going by what David recommended; maybe he should try being nice to the kid. Perhaps it would stop him from turning into a heartless murderer. There was still so much goodness left in the kid, even if it only came out with cake, and Jörg was determined to save that.

"Don't forget your present," he reminded the boy who seemed completely absorbed by the cake.

"What?" Tom asked through a mouthful of cake, nearly spilling some of it; he really needed to teach the poor kid some table manners, he noticed with an amused smile.

~*~Tom was really confused; what was Weiss talking about?

The man lifted the wrapped object from the floor and placed it on the table; Tom had completely forgotten about it already. That was actually for him? An actual present that was wrapped? It was like the snickers, but bigger.

Quickly he finished the last remains of his cake, and then got up to be able to look at the present better.

"Thank you," he mumbled awkwardly; he actually wanted to hop around and scream, but didn't think Weiss would appreciate that. Though he did smile that weird warm smile again that was really encouraging for Tom.

Carefully he began to unwrap the brown paper, making sure not to tear it.

"It's cheap packing paper, you can just rip it off if you want," Weiss chuckled with a raised eyebrow.

Tom didn't need telling twice and impatiently ripped the paper away; it was a lot more satisfying, he realized.

Inside the paper was a very oddly shaped, shiny object. Tom had no idea what it was supposed to be, and gave Weiss a completely confused look.

"It's a guitar. You can make music with it. When I was your age I really wanted to play it but... well, I didn't, but I thought maybe you'd like to try it," he said hurriedly, not looking at him.

Tom didn't know what to say; he knew what musical instruments were, but had never thought about playing one, of course.

Weiss reached for the guitar, placing it on his lap, and ran his hand over the strings, causing it to emanate a beautiful sound; Tom loved it.

With another smile, Weiss handed it back to him.

"Thank you," he whispered in awe, not being able to believe this wonderful object belonged to him. He placed it on his lap just like Weiss had done, and carefully ran his fingers across the strings, causing it to sing again.

Tom's happiness was soon interrupted by the phone ringing.

"It's David. He wants to wish you a happy birthday," Weiss told him, gesturing with his head towards the living room.

Tom immediately ran to the living room to pick up the phone; he was really excited because today was so nice.

"Hello?" he said in the same fashion that Weiss always did when picking up the phone.

"Hello?" said a distant voice over the phone.

"David...?" Tom asked a bit confused; it didn't really sound like the other man.

"No. It's Bill."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, Bill showed up ^^ I'm afraid hes not going to be around too much for now though... later he will for sure, no worries. Just a few more chapters... various more....


	16. Chapter 16

"Oh. I think you have the wrong number," Tom answered slowly.

"Oh, really? That's weird. I'm looking for my dad?" the voice asked in confusion.

"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number," Tom told him.

"Oops, sorry!" the voice laughed a bit, but it wasn't like the laughs Tom had heard so far; it was light and easy, reminding him of the chirping of a bird. "Well thanks anyway. Bye!"

"Bye," Tom mumbled, hanging up the phone. The boy on the other end had had a very nice voice, he slowly concluded. Odd — he had never thought of a voice as beautiful before. What was it about it that made it so special?

With a shrug Tom turned around and was about to head back to the kitchen when the phone rang again, nearly scaring him to death.

"Hello?" he answered again — maybe now it was David.

"Hi! It's me again. I think I have the wrong number written down here," the boy on the line said in confusion.

"Oh," Tom mumbled, not really knowing what to say to that.

"That's totally weird because I always call this number. Or at least I think it's this number...? I mean it's been written down here for like, ever. But maybe someone changed it? I don't know. I should probably ask my mom, but she's not here. She went out with my step-dad to get us some pizza cuz she accidentally burned the chicken," the voice rambled on in a slightly worse English than Tom's. Tom was completely confused as to why he was receiving this very random information.

"Which is really sad because I really wanted chicken... but whatever, pizza is cool too. It's not as cool as chicken though, but whatever. Do you like pizza? I mean of course you do, everyone likes pizza. What do you prefer, chicken or pizza?" he paused after the question, and Tom wondered if he should answer or not, but since the boy said nothing, he was probably waiting for a reply.

"I'm vegetarian," Tom mumbled quietly.

"Seriously? Does that mean you don't ever eat chicken? Why not? How can you not, it's so good!" the boy exclaimed loudly.

"I don't like it," Tom said quietly, wondering why he was having a discussion about chicken with some random stranger on the phone.

"That's really weird. I could never live without chicken... well maybe I could, but only if there was no chicken anywhere left in the whole world! I would probably just eat McDonalds, like all the time," he said firmly; Tom had no idea what the boy was talking about.

"Oh well...I should probably hang up because I'm calling to America right? Of course - you speak English. Well I'm calling from Germany so that's going to be suuuper expensive... my mom's gonna kill me," he finished with a dramatic voice, though Tom was almost certain he didn't mean it literally.

"Germany?" he asked a bit nervously; Weiss was German.

"Yeah, and you know, long distance calls. My mom always tells me I'm not allowed to talk too much because otherwise it costs too much, but I call like super rarely! Only like once a year. And it's my birthday today! So I should be allowed to talk longer, I think-"

"Your birthday?" Tom muttered.

"Yeah!" the voice chirped happily; "I'm thirteen today!"

"Me too," Tom said slowly, not really sure why he was telling this to some strange boy on the phone, but there was something weird going on here.

"Wait wait wait. You're thirteen too or it's your birthday today?" the boy named Bill asked excitedly.

"Both. I turned thirteen today," Tom replied a little lighter; this person was unusually easy to talk to.

"Holy caboodle! That's so cool!" he cheered excitedly, and Tom held the phone away from his ear. "Happy birthday!"

"T-thank you. To you too," he said hesitantly.

"This is totally epic. It's really too bad you're in American, otherwise we could be like twins!" Bill's voice said excitedly, causing Tom to smile a little; this boy was so weird.

"What did you get? Oh my gosh, I got chocolate cheese cake! It's my favorite ever! And a bunch of other random stuff like shoes and clothes and stuff," he ranted on, but Tom was still caught up on the chocolate cheese cake; wasn't that what Weiss had called his cake too? Could it really be a coincidence that some boy from Germany, who had the same birthday as him and received the same cake, was randomly calling the wrong number...?

"What's your father's name?" Tom interrupted the boy who was still rambling something about clothes.

"Huh? Oh. Jörg Weiss," he replied in that ever chipper voice of his.

Tom nearly had a heart attack; this was Weiss' son?! Weiss had a son? Why was he so happy? How could anyone with such a nasty father be so cheerful? Why would any woman even want to have children with a man like that?

Then he remembered the day he had had today; cake, a guitar and Weiss smiling. Could it be that there was a side to that man that he hadn't known before?

"Hello? Are you still there?" the boy's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hold on," Tom mumbled nervously, heading into the kitchen.

Weiss had put away the cake and was rinsing their plates.

"Phone for you," Tom said warily.

Weiss nodded, heading into the living room with Tom on his heels.

"David," he said passively, picking up the receiver. A second later his expression changed from blank to horrified and he sent Tom an unusual look before turning his face away.

"Bill. Happy birthday," he mumbled gruffly in a low voice, obviously not really wanted Tom to hear even though he was standing right there.

"I didn't forget. Yes I promise I didn't forget," he grumbled drily; "Right. Yeah. Ok. Right. Uh... that was uh... Natalie's son...um, Christopher," he said awkwardly, sending Tom another weird look before turning his back to him again.

Tom knew that they were talking about him; why was Weiss not telling him the truth? And why in the world had Weiss given him his son's birthday? He could barely believe Weiss even had a son, least of all one like that, and the fact that they now shared the same birthday, was beyond insane.

"Right. Yeah. Yeah. Yes Bill. Right. Mhm. Ok. Send my greetings to your mother and Gordon," Weiss finished, hanging up the phone before turning to Tom; "Don't ever pick up the phone again," he snarled angrily, walking away, completely back to the usual Weiss Tom knew and hated.

Tom blinked after him, feeling a bit betrayed; Weiss had been the one who told him to pick up the phone, and now he was angry with him? Had this really been his fault...? But he had only done what the man had asked him to do.

With a shrug, Tom returned to the kitchen to get his present and retreated to his room to test it out. Just like earlier, the instrument made a beautiful sound when he ran his fingers across it, so he spent the next twenty minutes testing out different sounds until he was interrupted by a knock on his door that opened a moment later.

"Happy birthday!" Natalie danced into the room, carrying a large box with a blue ribbon on it

"Thank you," Tom smiled feebly, getting up from the bed and placing the guitar aside.

"This is for you," she smiled brightly, placing the package on the floor. 

"Thank you," he repeated in awe, crouching down next to it.

"Come on, open it!" she said excitedly, sitting down beside him.

After removing the ribbon with the bow, he opened the cardboard box to reveal a small dog that was looking up at them, wagging its tail a bit. Tom stared with wide eyes at the puppy, not really understanding what Natalie was trying to do.

"...this is for me?" he asked in disbelief, looking back and forth between the dog and the woman.

"Yes," she said happily, pulling him into a hug.

"Thank you so much... I love it," he mumbles softly, not really knowing what to say; he could barely believe it — he had a dog!

"You're welcome! He doesn't have a name yet so you can name him anything you want," she smiled brightly, releasing him from the hug.

"Are you sure this is ok with Weiss though?" Tom asked carefully; he really couldn't imagine the man being alright with this.

"You call him Weiss?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"...I don't really call him anything, but... if I have to call him something, yes... that would be it," he mumbled stupidly; he had never actually called the man by name before... he usually didn't speak to him at all unless spoken to, so his name hadn't actually been required so far. "You call him...something else?" he didn't really want to say the man's name.

"Well... generally I call him Mr. Weiss, but... only to his face," she chuckled; "But whatever, the point is that he's perfectly fine with it. Actually it was his idea," she grinned happily; "Jörg loves dogs!"

"Really?" Tom couldn't imagine Weiss loving anything at all, but maybe animals were an exception. He did seem to like horses though, so maybe he was fond of dogs as well. And he had a kid. Tom was still not over that weird fact.

"Oh yes," she said wisely; "Why don't you go downstairs and show it to him?"

"What about our lesson?" he asked hesitantly; he was really excited about the dog, but Natalie was already here and he didn't want to make her wait.

"It's your birthday! We're not working today," she shook her head sternly; "I just came over to congratulate you and bring you your present."

"Oh... thank you," he said again; he couldn't remember a day in his life when he'd said 'thank you' as often as today.

"Go on!" she grinned, pointing at the puppy who was desperately trying to climb out of the large box.

Very carefully, Tom reached inside and picked it up under its tiny front legs, lifting it to his chest; the dog was soft and warm, and completely fluffy. It was so much cuter than Tom had ever thought any dog could be.

"What are you going to call it?" Natalie asked while she petted the little dog's head.

Tom had no idea; he had never had to name anyone before, and couldn't think of a single name. Well... maybe just one.

"I'd like to call him Bill," he said slowly, giving her a careful look to see if she would like it.

Natalie looked a bit shocked for a second, but then she laughed; "Bill it is then!"

"Yes. Bill is nice," Tom was unsure if he was talking about the name or the boy he had met earlier.

"Why don't you go downstairs to introduce him to Jörg?" she grinned, chuckling a little.

Tom nodded, carrying the dog downstairs with Natalie trailing behind him.

Weiss was sitting at his desk in the living room like always, and Tom nearly ran up to him in his excitement; he couldn't believe this had been Weiss' idea — today he had proven to be completely different than Tom had thought.

As Tom approached, Weiss lifted his head, giving him the usual, passive stare.

"Thank you so much for the dog. Natalie said it was your idea... I love him," he said quietly, trying not to smile too much.

"Sure," Weiss nodded; "Why don't you take him outside for a bit?"

Tom nodded enthusiastically, running outside.

~*~

Jörg stared after the glowing kid, trying to concentrate on reality; "So that was my idea, huh?" he asked once he got his voice back, giving her a pointed look.

"Oh come on Mr. Weiss, you love dogs!" Natalie smiled happily.

"How'd you figure?" he asked drily; it's not like he didn't like dogs, but he really didn't want any.

"It's a puppy... everyone loves puppies," she reasoned with a shrug.

"Right. Another whelp that needs caring... just what I need," he grumbled darkly.

"Aw. Don't be so hard on the boy. Look how happy he is," she pointed through the window at the kid running around outside with the puppy.

"Whatever," he growled, refusing to let her know what he truly thought of the sight.

"Guess what he called it?" she giggled, walking to the door where she pulled her shoes on; "Bill," she smirked wickedly; "Have a good day Mr. Weiss!" she waved with a laugh as she left the house, closing the door behind her.

Jörg stared at the spot where she'd been standing, not able to believe his ears; Bill?! Tom named the dog after his son?! Wonderful.

How had his life come to this? Jörg stared out the window at the boy who was now sitting on the grass, playing around with the small dog named Bill. There was something seriously wrong with this.

And yet, he could hardly remember a time in his life that had felt so right. At that moment he wished he were outside so he could listen to the boy who appeared to be laughing; why was this damned kid affecting him so strongly? What was it about him that was so different from everyone else that he had ever known? The effect the boy had on him scared him, even though the boy's presence was calming and enjoyable; he just couldn't place his feelings regarding him.

Why was he going through so much trouble for this kid? He didn't even do that for his own son, so why this boy? It's not like he didn't care about Bill, sure he did, but not to the extent of actually spending time with him - at least not more than a few hours once a year or so. Now he was even willing to put up with a dog; that couldn't be good.


	17. Chapter 17

Jörg paused outside the kid's door and listened to the quiet guitar strumming that he was beginning to get used to. The boy was actually getting pretty good, even though he had nothing more to practice than the old notes Jörg had gotten him a few weeks ago; if he kept on playing like this, he could actually turn into a very good musician once. If the boy weren't such a good killer, Jörg might actually encourage a music oriented career for him. 

It was easy to see how strongly the boy had been affected by the dog Bill (ugh wth) and the instrument - he was like a different person. Apparently David had been right, and all the kid needed was a little encouragement to turn into an almost normal child; aside from the killing and all that, of course.

"Hey kid," he called and knocked, silencing the playing immediately.

After a second, the boy opened the door, looking up at him with those unnecessarily fearful eyes.

"I'm going outside, are you coming?" he asked as passively as he could, hoping the kid would agree.

The boy nodded immediately, following him downstairs without a word. Luckily he had told the boy that he didn't want him riding out alone because it was too dangerous (which was, of course, ridiculous), so whenever he wanted to ride out, the boy was happy to join him, even in the cold winter months that the kid hated with a passion.

Jörg mentally shook his head at himself; he actually lied to the boy in order to spend some time with him... but it wasn't as if he had much of a choice - the kid would never do anything with him voluntarily. Of course he couldn't answer why he even wanted to spend time with the child, but the point was that he did, and this was the perfect excuse to do so. Over the past few months, he gradually began to accept the fact that he enjoyed the boy's company, and even though he avoided thinking about it, he had given up trying to deny it.

Once outside, the kid stalked through the snow to fetch the horses from the field while Jörg went into the stables to get the reins and his riding pad; the boy preferred to ride without it.

Just like every time, they brushed the horses in silence, and then Osiris knelt down to let the kid crawl clumsily onto his back; the boy had spent so much time with the horse lately that Osiris had formed a very close attachment to him. Jörg used the opportunity to smile while he climbed onto Anubis, and then they rode out onto the snow-covered dirt road that led away from the ranch; the only sound accompanying them were the rhythmical sound from the hooves, and Bill's occasional happy bark while he ran along with them.

It amazed him every time how fast Bill was growing, reminding him of how fast time was going by; it seemed just like yesterday that he had taught the boy how to shoot, and now he was nearing a well-trainer killer. Soon he would be going to high school, a time which Jörg feared like the plague; he well remember his own time in that hell-hole, and knew that the boy would have a difficult time there - even if his life wouldn't be written across his face it would be hard for him to make friends, but like this... a good high school experience was beyond impossible for him.

All the more reason for Jörg to treasure rare moments like this where they rode together in peace, without anyone interrupting their perfect little world that Jörg had become so scared of losing. He knew how fragile their life was, and that it could topple over into disaster at any given moment, so he did everything in his power to keep things as calm and quiet as possible, trying to live the life he had actually wanted, rather than the one he had fallen into.

~*~

Tom smiled happily at himself while he watched Bill running around a bit ahead of them, exploring the snow on the side of the road. These afternoons were his favorites - the ones where Weiss took him horseback riding somewhere into the wilderness of the Colorado mountains. The untouched nature gave him a sense of freedom that he had never known before, making it one of his all-time favorite activities, especially since he had gotten rather good at riding. Weiss had taught him a lot about this Natural Horsemanship stuff that Tom had even began applying to Bill, and it worked great - apparently dogs and horses had a lot in common. Tom was particularly fond of Osiris, who was Weiss's younger horse and the one he was always allowed to ride on. Osiris wasn't fully trained yet because he was only 5, but Weiss had said that Tom was good enough to train him, and Osiris would be in his charge. Tom took the task of working with Osiris every serious, and trained with him almost every day, determined to turn him into a loyal, trusting partner, just like Weiss had done with Anubis.

According to what he had learned, Osiris's horsenality was the one if a left brained extrovert, making him very easy going and lazy - unlike Anubis who was the exact opposite: a right brained introvert, which made him a bit scared and jumpy at times. Weiss said the horses were a perfect match in their horsenalities, because they completed each other, offering each other support and strength but also awareness and attention to potential danger. Tom hoped to one day find a friend who would be to him what Anubis and Osiris were to each other, but until that day came... he always had Bill to keep him company and encourage him.

"No, no, no. The tree goes inside the house," Natalie explained happily.

"Inside the house?" Tom asked incredulously, really not believing that her information about this was accurate.

"Yes, it's called a Christmas tree, and you decorate it with stuff," she said enthusiastically, waving her arms around.

"Why?" he asked, still in total confusion.

"Because it's a Christmas tradition. It's great, you'll love it," she assured him.

"I don't think that Weiss is going to agree with the whole... putting a tree inside the house thing. He barely allows Bill inside, even though he's housebroken and all. He only piddled on the carpet one single time when he was a baby... Weiss nearly had a stroke at that..." Tom remembered fearfully.

Natalie just laughed, heading downstairs to talk to Weiss; "I'm sure he will agree on the Christmas tree thing. Everyone loves Christmas!"

"Absolutely not. I hate Christmas," Weiss growled darkly, sending both Natalie and Tom an angry glare.

"But mister Weiss!" Natalie protested immediately; "It's Christmas! And Tom has never seen a real Christmas tree before. It is my professional opinion as tutor that, for the sake of his education, he needs to know first-hand what a Christmas tree is, and it is therefore very important for his future that you acquire said artifact immediately," she insisted firmly.

Tom wasn't sure what the expression on Weiss was, but it looked like a mixture of anger and amusement.

"Fine. As his tutor, the acquirement of said educational tree falls under your responsibilities, so I trust you will do whatever you deem necessary for his education in this matter," Weiss smiled coldly, returning to his papers.

"Yes, sir!" Natalie smiled enthusiastically; "Ready to go Christmas shopping, Tom?"

"What?" Tom mumbled in confusion.

"Great! Let's go," she said while pulling him towards the door; "We'll be back later, mister Weiss!"

Weiss just rolled his eyes but said nothing as they departed.

"Ok, so Christmas shopping is a very important tradition here in America, and we are very passionate about it. The point is to buy presents for all your friends and family members, wrap them and put them under the tree," she explained happily; "Then, on the morning of the 25th of December, everyone opens their presents!"

"I don't have friends and family members," Tom pointed out quietly; he didn't like Christmas anymore.

"Of course you do, honey. I'm your friend, and Jörg is your friend too... and Bill is your family," she added with an encouraging smile.

"You really think so?" he asked hesitantly, gaining a bit more hope; did she really view him as a friend?

"Absolutely," she nodded in determination; "That's why we also have to buy presents for Jörg and Bill! What are you going to give them?"

"I don't know," Tom mumbled awkwardly; he had never given anyone a present before and had no idea what that entailed.

"Well it doesn't matter, sometimes that's the funnest part about Christmas: finding the perfect present for each person," she grinned enthusiastically, parking her car at the mall. Tom had seen this place before, but he'd never been here; the many people scared him a little, and he immediately pulled the hoody further down on his head.

"Come on, don't be shy," she encouraged him as they walked through the crowded mall, Tom marveling at all the bright, colorful displays, with absolutely no idea what he should give any of his three... people to whom he wanted to give something.

Natalie was chatting away about Christmas, explaining how the tradition had begun, and what it had once meant; apparently Christmas had once been about generosity and love, but now it was very commercialized - whatever that might mean.

"There!" Natalie pointed to a store; "It's a pet store where you can buy something for Bill," she explained as they entered.

The store contained a lot of things Tom had never seen before, and had no name for. The only things he recognized were leashes, collars and dog food - those were things Jörg had gotten for Bill as well.

"You could get him toys of some kind," Natalie suggested while they browsed through the dog toy section. Tom couldn't imagine Bill wanting any of these things though - Bill preferred real toys; sticks, the outdoors and Tom. The dog probably wouldn't appreciate a bunch of plastic chickens that smelled disgusting, so Tom carried on walking in the direction of dog food; everyone knew Bill was gluttonous and would appreciate food a lot more.

They paused in front of a shelf that contained something that made Tom's stomach churn; what on earth was that?!

"Oooh, pig's ears, you could get him some of those. Dogs love them!" Natalie nodded enthusiastically, pointing at the objects; Tom felt like throwing up. There was no way he was getting his beloved Bill dead pig ears. Quickly he shook his head and carried on walking; it had to be a present that Bill would appreciate, and one that Tom was willing to accept - thank god he didn't have a lot of friends because this present choosing thing was really hard.

"Ok... what about this bone here? I think Bill would like it very much," Natalie pointed to a large bone made out of hide; why did everything here need to be made of dead animals? Tom scrunched his nose in disgust.

"I know you don't like the whole idea of dead animals, Tom, but Bill is a dog... dogs love dead things..." Natalie said softly, obviously having noticed his disgust at the object in question.

Why couldn't they sell bones not made out of animals but out of huma- Tom quickly interrupted himself - that was probably not the right way to think.

He nodded, taking the ill-smelling bone from the shelf, making sure not to touch more of it than absolutely necessary. Natalie had told him once that dogs had a really good sense of smell; if that was so, why did they like such disgusting smelling things?

They went to the cashier who sent Tom an unusual look, just like most people did; "That'll be $3.49, please," she smiled politely.

Tom rummaged through his wallet trying to find some change, but he didn't have any, so he ended up handing her a $100 bill.

"Where did you get that?" Natalie whispered once they exited the store.

"What?" Tom whispered back, not knowing why they were whispering.

"So much money!" she exclaimed, pointing at the pocket where Tom kept his wallet.

"Weiss gives it to me every time I-" Tom stopped in midsentence, remembering that this was something Natalie wasn't meant to know; "It's my allowance," he nodded quickly.

Natalie rose an eyebrow; "That's a lot of allowance. Weren't there a bunch of $100 dollar notes in there?" she asked suspiciously.

Tom shrugged; every time he killed someone, Weiss paid him 10% from the assignment's profit, so by now he had acquired quite a bit of money already. Of course Weiss didn't pay him in small change though, only in $100 notes, leaving Tom without any explanation.

"Right," Natalie nodded, still looking very suspicious, but obviously ignoring it for now; "What should we buy for Jörg? Also, we need to split up for a bit so you can buy my present and I can buy yours," she smiled mysteriously.

Tom got nervous and excited at the same time; Natalie was going to give him a present? But he really didn't want to run around this place alone - he would get lost, or someone would kill him, or something.

"Don't worry, it's only for a little while. We'll meet up as soon as we've both got our stuff together," she smiled enthusiastically; "how about we meet up by the large Christmas tree in half an hour?"

Tom nodded, watching anxiously as she disappeared into the crowd with a wave. 'Now what?' he thought nervously, looking around at all the many shops while crowds of people rushed passed him in every direction.

Somehow this didn't seem like the type of place where one might find a suitable present for Weiss; whatever the man appreciated, it could probably not be found here. What kind of present was suitable for Weiss anyway? What did the man like besides guns and rifles? Was there anything at all he enjoyed? What was he interested in besides killing people and having sex with random woman?

Tom quickly pushed the thought out of his mind; every time they went somewhere on an assignment, Weiss had sex with women Tom had never seen before (or after), and it freaked him out.

With a heavy sigh, Tom came to the realization that even if there was something the man enjoyed, it was nothing Tom was familiar with, or had access to; what did one give to someone that they knew nothing about? He realized that even though he'd known Weiss for well over half a year, he knew nothing about him - but that wasn't Tom's fault because Weiss was an antisocial jerk.

Yes, Tom nodded, it wasn't his fault that he couldn't get to know the man any better - that guy was impossible.

His aimless wandering had taken him deeper into the small where he now stood in front of a store which caught his attention; a musical instrument shop!

Enthusiastically, Tom went into the shop, ignoring the random people who whispered and stared at him. He had never seen so many guitars and other random instruments he had no name for; this place was great! Of course he wouldn't find a present for Weiss here, but at least he could look around a bit.

After thoroughly investigating the guitar section, Tom strolled aimlessly through the shop, looking at all the unusual instruments, most of which he hadn't even seen on pictures so far, until he arrived at the very back of the store where they kept the larger instruments. Tom knew these - he'd seen them on pictures, and he remembered his family having one when he'd been little. Slowly he approached the piano, and ran his hand across the dark, smooth surface, drowning in memories of his earlier childhood where his father used to play every day; he had stopped when Tom's mother passed away though, and ever since, no one had played the piano in their house again. Sometimes, when his father had been away, Tom had sat down and tried to imitate the amazing sounds his father had managed to play there, but of course it had never gotten anywhere.

Carefully, Tom placed his fingers on the keyboard and played a few random tunes, closing his eyes at the beautiful, familiar sounds the instrument made; it had been so long since he'd even thought about his. As a child he had sat around their small living room for countless hours while his father practiced before a concert, but ever since that time, he hadn't heard a single piano sonata anywhere; it had been so many years ago and yet he remembered that sound so clearly it brought tears to his eyes. He missed his family so much; how had he managed to go on without them?

Miserably he slumped down to the floor, cowering next to the piano, grateful that there weren't a lot of people in this part of the store.

The drive back home was spent in silence because apparently Natalie wasn't feeling all to chatty either, which didn't bother Tom in the least because he was still nostalgic due to his piano experience earlier, and really didn't feel like talking. He had found a scarf for Natalie that he hoped she would like, and then returned to the tree, well knowing he couldn't find a present for Weiss in that mall anyway. Obviously Natalie had noticed he wasn't feeling well because she had asked if something bad happened, but Tom had insisted it was nothing; as much as he cared but Natalie, his past wasn't something he wanted to share with her. Or anyone else for that matter.

~*~

"Mister Weiss?" Natalie asked from her spot at the door.

"Hm?" Jörg replied absently, not bothering to look up from the paper on which he was writing his next assignment's daily habits.

"Have you got a Christmas present for Tom yet?"

Damn that woman was nosey; "No."

"Oh good. I think you should buy him a piano," she said enthusiastically.

This time Jörg did lift his head; "Pardon me?" Had she seriously said piano? Did that woman have any idea how much a piano cost?

"At the mall earlier, I saw him in the piano section... I think they really mean a lot to him, and he can even play a little bit. I just thought it might be a nice surprise for him... and don't try to tell me I've ever been wrong when it came to that boy," she added with a triumphant smile.

"You serious? A piano? I'm not going to buy everything he looks at," Jörg growled moodily.

"No, but I think that this might be really important to him," she replied slowly, a lot more serious this time; "He spent the rest of the time in total silence and was obviously not feeling well — I think it's something very personal for him. Maybe something from that mysterious past that we don't know anything about?" she suggested, again making it clear that she didn't agree with the fact that the boy was actually a total mystery to both of them.

Jörg rolled his eyes; "I'll keep it in mind." If it really was something related to the boy's past, maybe it was worth taking a look at?

"You do that," she smiled happily and waved as she exited the door.

Jörg sighed heavily; maybe he should pay Simone more allowance... kids were bloody expensive. Oh wait... she was married to Gordon so he didn't have to pay anything anymore. Didn't he do something with music as well? And Bill, the boy not the dog, was really into music too... why was everyone in his family so musical?

Maybe he really should get the boy a piano, it wasn't as if he had any other bright ideas anyway, and if Natalie was right and it made him happy... then it was definitely worth whatever it was that a piano might cost. How much did that cost anyway? A few hundred? No, probably more... at least the good ones, because there was no way he was getting one of those cheap, electronic ones. No, if he would buy a piano, it would be a good old fashioned wooden one that cost a lot more than it was ever worth.


	18. Chapter 18

Christmas was fast approaching, and they only had one more assignment for this year: 52 year old Cameron Daley from Wisconsin who picked up his dry cleaning every Thursday at 20:25.

 

"Target approaching," Jörg announced as Daley exited the dry cleaners and headed for his car.

The boy nodded, rifle aimed at the target and fully concentrated; it was fascinating for Jörg to watch because usually he had always been the one shooting, and watching it from another perspective was very interesting. Up until last month he always aimed his own rifle at the target for an emergency shot should the boy's aim fail, but since it never had, he considered it safe to let the boy do it all on his own today.

While the target stood at his car about to open the door, the shot rang out and the man fell down to the floor, crying out in panic and agony.

Jörg turned away, really not caring for the sight and sound, and began packing up with the boy who seemed completely untouched, as always.

Over the past few months, Jörg had expected to get some type of reaction out of the boy, but he was completely unfazed by what they did. Which was rather odd given he was rather emotional in many other areas of life; a while back Jörg had killed a mouse which had always been eating the horses' food in the barn, at which point the boy hadn't spoken to him for nearly a week. Also when it came to horses — he was patient, kind and understanding; with humans he was brutal and merciless. It was a little unsettling.

 

The drive back home was long, and the kid spent it reading and studying just like every trip; sometimes Jörg thought that maybe he should buy him a Gameboy or something, but decided against it every time; the boy had a lot to catch up, and if he wanted to study by his own free will, who was Jörg to stop him. He knew from the scarce phone conversations with Simone that she wasn't that lucky with Bill, and had to battle him for homework almost every day; teenagers.

Jörg was glad Tom wasn't like that because he was certain he would have kicked the boy out by now if he were to give him any trouble like that. Or maybe not... he didn't actually care if the boy learned anything or not... well he did care, of course, he wanted him to have a good education someday, but he would have never told him that... so if the boy refused to study... well whatever, that wasn't his problem. Jörg wasn't his father, and wasn't about to force him to do something he didn't want. That, and the kid did everything he asked him to do anyway, so it really wasn't an issue. Now he just needed to make sure it remained that way.

 

Once they were back home, Jörg opened the trunk and removed the rifle cases, noticing immediately that one was far heavier than usual; before he managed to open it, however, the kid grabbed it and dragged it away to the house. Jörg raised an eyebrow - what the heck was that? Had the boy bought something in Wisconsin and hidden it in one of the rifle cases? Immediately Jörg got completely paranoid - the boy was hiding something! Clearly he was up to something bad - he had to be or he wouldn't be hiding things like that.

Then he remembered that Christmas was just around the corner - was he hiding a present...? No way. Jörg debated which the most plausible option was, but the boy had never given him reason for mistrust, so maybe it really was a present... would the boy seriously buy a present for him? Why should he? The thought of a random Christmas present from Tom made him unusually excited; what was wrong with him? He didn't care, or even want presents, why was he still thinking about this? This was ridiculous, he berated himself while bringing in the last of their luggage; it was a stupid Christmas present - nothing important or worth thinking about. Or at least that's what he forced himself to think.

 

~*~

"Now all we need are candles," Natalie nodded, satisfied with the decorating of the tree.

At first Tom had been somewhat reluctant, but soon enough had begun to enjoy the decorating; the more he knew about Christmas, the more he liked it. He had already wrapped up the three presents and would give Natalie hers today before she left. It was the 24th today, and Natalie had said that tomorrow in the morning people would open their presents; Tom was really excited already and couldn't wait for Bill and Weiss to get their presents - hopefully they would like them.

Already a few weeks ago, Natalie had given him a few short stories revolving around Christmas, and Tom had read them all by now. His favorite was one that Natalie called a classic - A Christmas Carol - by a man named Charles Dickens, who was apparently very important in literature. Tom was quite certain that the character of Scrooge must have been a man just like Weiss, but since it was a fantasy tale, in the end Scrooge turned kind and generous, unlike Weiss who would remain awful eternally.

"And don't eat all the chocolate at once," Natalie laughed, poking at the candy that hung on the tree. Natalie had told him that people ate it in the following days after Christmas, but the small chocolates were all so neatly wrapped that Tom would much rather not eat them at all. Why would someone wrap something so delicately just to rip it open and eat it?

After they were fully done decorating and Natalie was ready to leave, Tom awkwardly handed her the not-so-neatly wrapped scarf, and mumbled a quiet Merry Christmas.

"Aw, thank you, love. Merry Christmas to you too!" she beamed happily, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Tom loved those small, random hugs she sometimes gave him, though he never dared to hug back. Every time she hugged him, he was reminded of how nice it had been when he was little and hugs had been on his daily routine; he really missed the physical contact, even though it had gotten a lot better since he got Bill who was always willing to cuddle with him.

"You two have a lovely Christmas," Natalie smiled, also looking over at Weiss who sat in the couch, ignoring them completely. Only by the time she was halfway to the door, he seemed to notice and called after her.

"Don't forget this," he lifted an envelope.

"Oooh. Nothing more personal than money?" she winked at him with a grin.

"Would you prefer something else?" Weiss asked dully, though he was smiling a bit.

"No, I'm good!" she laughed, snatching the envelope from him; "Merry Christmas mister Weiss!"

"Hm," Weiss just nodded, returning to his reading before she was even out the door.

With Natalie gone, Tom felt awkward being alone with Weiss, so he quickly made his way outside to the stables; in winter the horses weren't outside so much, so there was a bit more work to be done in the barn, plus he still wanted to do a bit of target practice in the afternoon. Even though it was freezing and he hated it outside, he was determined to follow his training routine as always, in order to not fall behind.

Weiss hadn't been joking about all the things he was expecting of him, and so far Tom thought he was doing a pretty decent job at learning all the things that seemed impossible at first. Though not the most patient and kindest of people, Weiss was a good teacher who gave him enough breaks and time to catch up on the newly learned things; apparently these breaks were very important for his mind to process what he had learned, and Tom was also meant to apply this technique with Osiris in order not to overwork or stress him.

 

That night, Tom snuck downstairs to place Weiss's and Bill's present under the tree; Bill was lying in his basket in the hall and wagged his tail happily as Tom approached and scratched him a bit before going to bed.

"Goodnight Bill," he whispered before closing the door to his room; he was so happy that he had Bill. Even though Weiss had been rather annoyed with the dog at first, he had quickly gotten used to him, and by now Tom was certain that the man also liked Bill, even if just a little bit. Bill was just loveable like that - with his black, wet nose and fluffy blond fur.

A few weeks ago Tom had even caught Weiss sitting on the couch with Bill's head in his lap, but the moment Weiss had seen him, he had left.

 

Right after waking the next morning, Tom remembered that it was Christmas today and dashed downstairs without even bothering to get washed or dressed. He was really excited to unwrap Bill's present, and very anxious to find out whether Weiss would like what he had gotten for him or not.

Somehow he really wished that the man would like it, and again had that weird urge to do something good or impress him. Even though he had the feeling that Weiss really didn't care what he did, he still wanted to do the right thing and please him.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Tom stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the living room; the couch and one shelf had been moved a bit to fit a piano in between them. Tom blinked a few times, trying to determine whether he was dreaming this or not. The grand piano had a beautiful, dark mahogany color and a note on it that read TOM.

Weiss was sitting on the couch like always, not paying any attention, so Tom cautiously made his way towards the piano, half expecting it to blow up at his approach. However, the piano didn't blow up, and soon enough he was standing in front of it, staring in disbelief; was this for him...?

Hesitantly he took the note and turned it over, but it contained nothing more than his name.

"Thank you?" he whispered hesitantly, staring at Weiss who slowly lifted his head, giving him a passive stare.

"Ngh," he made an indistinguishable sound and nodded, returning to his papers a moment later.

Tom still couldn't take his eyes off it, afraid it might disappear if he looked away. Did he really have his own piano? That he was allowed to play whenever he wanted to? Not that he knew how, but he was determined to learn.

~*~

Discretely, Jörg lifted his head again to look at the boy who looked like... like every kid should look on Christmas.

The kid's mouth was slightly open in a huge, amazed smile and his eyes stared in sparkling awe at the new instrument. That smile was so worth the 15 grand he'd paid. Of course he knew that small pianos were far cheaper and he had actually intended to get one of those, but then he had seen this one and practically fallen in love with the instrument; the dark, polished wood with the decorative carvings on it more resembled a piece of art rather than an instrument, and even if the boy didn't play it, Jörg intended to keep it for decorative purposes.

"C-can I play on this?" the boy mumbled silently, giving him an uncertain glance. Only now did Jörg realize he'd been staring, unaware that the boy had turned to look at him.

"Play on it, burn it, I don't care what you do with it," he snapped, irritated with himself for letting the kid catch him, even if the boy didn't seem to have noticed.

The boy just nodded, rewarding his harsh words with a bright smile and making it impossible for Jörg to look away.

The scene was interrupted by Bill who began licking the boy's hand, demanding attention; that dog was so needy. Tom laughed quietly, but only for a second, before he turned away towards the Christmas tree and the present that he had gotten for Bill; Jörg had totally checked the name tags earlier. But of course he hadn't opened the one for him, no matter how curious he was.

From the size and weight of the box he almost thought it could have been a rifle, but that might just be his crazy mind - where the hell was the kid supposed to suddenly get a rifle from?

~*~

Making sure not to damage the wrapping paper, Tom carefully unwrapped Bill's bone while Bill barked and jumped around in excitement, obviously having smelled the horrid smell that the bone gave off now that Tom had torn the plastic bag that covered it.

"Here you go," Tom whispered happily, handing the bone to his friend. Bill immediately gnawed around on it, slobbering all over the place and making funny sounds. Weiss would probably not be very happy about that.

Thinking of Weiss — he still hadn't opened the present. Maybe he didn't want it... or maybe he didn't know that it was for him... Tom was still debating how to address the subject of Weiss's present when someone knocked on the door, startling Tom a little; no one ever came here.

Obviously Bill was startled too, because he jumped up and began barking like mad while he ran towards the door, bone completely forgotten.

Weiss raised an eyebrow, sending Tom an alarmed glance; they never got any visitors. The only person who ever came here was Natalie, but she wasn't meant to come today and Bill never barked at her; Tom got a little nervous. Obviously Weiss wasn't a lot more relaxed either because he moved towards the drawer where he kept a gun that he retrieved, and then walked soundlessly towards the door, his finger on the trigger.


	19. Chapter 19

"Merry Christmas!" Jost announced and shoved into the house as soon as Weiss opened the door a crack; "What the hell is that? Were you going to shoot me or something?" he demanded dully, seeing the gun in Weiss's hand.

"I didnt know it was you. You didn't say you were coming over," Weiss pointed out giving him a sharp look.

"So you answer the door with a gun? On Christmas? Good god Jörg...you're such a creep, you know that," Jost rolled his eyes.

"What do you want David?" Weiss demanded grumpily.

"I wanted to wish you a merry- holy shit, what the hell is that?" Jost shrieked, staring around; "You have a Christmas tree," he stated in disbelief.

"Yeah. Christmas," Weiss reminded him drily, rolling his eyes.

"Yes but... but... you have a tree... and a piano?!" he asked wide eyed.

"You have such keen observation skills," Weiss mocked, rolling his eyes again while putting his gun away.

"Huh..." Jost muttered, walking into the living room while still looking around in awe. "Hey kiddo," he greeted Tom once he finally spotted him; "Merry Christmas!"

"Thank you. To you too," Tom nodded politely.

"How's Billy doing?" he asked with a grin, patting the dog that was sniffing him suspiciously.

Tom just nodded, feeling a bit bad that he hadn't gotten anything for Jost, but he didn't know that he would show up - they barely had any contact to him so Tom hadn't thought about it at all.

"I got something for you," Jost smiled, handing him the bag he was carrying.

"Thank you... I'm sorry, I don't have anything for you," he mumbled quietly.

"Don't worry. I got plenty of other presents. Open it!" Jost beamed and Tom began to carefully unwrap the box. "You know, it's a lot more fun if you just rip it open," he chuckled.

Tom gave him an uncertain look, really not agreeing with this theory; the paper was so nice, with colors and Christmas decorations on it, and destroying it didn't seem right.

While Tom unpacked, Jost went over to Weiss and talked to him about something, but Tom wasn't listening anymore - the present was unpacked, and consisted of a box that obviously still contained something else, and a few small... objects that Tom had no name for. The box read Gameboy Color on it, and Tom proceeded to remove the unusual contents; a strange, blue device, cables and an instruction manual. He gave Jost a confused look, holding up the device.

"It's a Gameboy. You like to play games, don't you?" Jost asked with a smile, and Tom nodded - he did really like to play, especially with Bill.

"Can Bill play with it too?" Tom questioned, smelling the device to see if it may be interesting to Bill.

"Um, sure, I guess...?" Jost shrugged, sending him a weird look.

"Bill! Fetch!" Tom called at Bill and tossed the blue object through the kitchen door - Bill immediately ran after it.

"Ah! No! What are you doing?!" Jost shrieked horrified while Weiss cackled evilly in the background.

Tom was a little taken aback and confused - had he done something wrong? He couldn't determine if Jost was angry at him or not. 

"Bill! Give me that!" Jost ran after Bill, trying to get the device back while the dog thought it was a game of tag and ran wildly around the living room, avoiding Jost and proudly carrying the Gameboy.

Tom wasn't sure if this situation was funny or threatening because Jost was cursing angrily and Weiss was laughing, so he just settled for doing nothing at all.

"I'm serious Bill, sit!" Jost ordered sternly, glaring at the dog that refused to do as told. Every time Jost stopped, Bill paused and waited until the man began chasing him again. After various tries, Jost eventually gave, trying to catch his breath.

"It's not a dog toy. I didn't mean Bill could play with it in the sense that he could... play with it," Jost sighed heavily, sitting down on the couch next Weiss who was still chuckling; "It's a toy for you, and Bill could... well... sit next to you and watch you play," he explained.

Tom didn't really know what that meant, but he nodded nonetheless while Bill approached Jost, nudging him with the Gameboy, clearly expecting him to throw it again.

The next half hour passed with Jost explaining how the Gameboy worked, and showing Tom how to play it. Tom found himself far more interested in the technology of the device rather than the games it played; for some odd reason he couldn't get acquainted with them. Tom had always been very simple in his way of thinking, and this game was too abstract, too fast, and lacked any sort of point for him. It was interesting to watch Jost play a little, but when he handed it to Tom, he didn't really know what to do with it.

"Nono, jump, jump!" Jost said stressed out while Tom's character fell down into a river and died; "You have to be quicker, but don't worry, you'll get the hang of it!" he laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

Tom really didn't think that this was the right game for him, but he nodded politely anyway; it had been very nice of Jost to bring him something, and Tom didn't want to seem ungrateful just because the present was terrible.

"I see you gave Bill a nice bone. What did you get Jörg?" Jost grinned, more towards Weiss than Tom.

Tom pointed at Weiss's unopened present, feeling sad again because the man was obviously not interested in it at all; he felt terrible about it because Weiss had given him such an amazing present, and he hadn't even managed to interest him enough to open it.

Jost gasped with a small smile; "You haven't even opened it?! Shame on you Jörg. Open it!" he demanded sternly, though Tom thought he looked somewhat amused. Sometimes he couldn't pinpoint people's emotions that well — they were so confusing at times, though he was getting a lot better at it already.

Weiss rolled his eyes while Jost ushered him towards the present with a grin; "Go on," he encouraged.

Tom wanted to say that he really didn't have to, especially because that present was nowhere near what Weiss had gotten for him, but something like that would have been impossible to get... not that he had any idea what could make the man as happy as a piano had made him, but still.

Nervously he watched as Weiss began to carelessly rip away the neat wrapping that had taken Tom nearly an hour to put into place, and revealed the cardboard box underneath it.

~*~

Jörg didn't really want to be doing this with David around, but David was the nosey type who wouldn't leave unless he saw what was inside that box, so he didn't have much choice. The simple cardboard box was closed by plastic tape which was easy to remove, and soon enough he could open it. Damn was he good at guessing — there was actually a rifle inside there.

"Oooooh, nice. What is that?" David breathed down his neck, staring into the box.

"It's...an M85?" Jörg mumbled in disbelief, lifting the rifle out of the box. No way.

Where in the hell had Tom found that rifle? Jörg had searched for an M85 for over 12 years and had only ever come across one, but it had been in terrible condition. Quickly he removed bolt to look into the muzzle, but it was in perfect condition. And it had matching numbers; Jörg was over the moon.

"Where did you get this?" he asked suspiciously, sending the boy a disbelieving look.

"Um..." he stuttered, looking scared and miserable; why did he always have to feel bad whenever Jörg talked to him...?

"I bought it off Henry McAshton in Wisconsin," he mumbled quietly.

"It's awesome!" David interrupted, slapping Jörg's arm and sending him a warning glance.

Jörg just shrugged nonchalantly; there was no way he would let the boy know what an amazing rifle he had bought and how much he loved it. It must have cost the boy nearly everything he had earned so far, and Jörg was glad he had gotten him a piano for it.

~*~

Tom sighed quietly; well at least Weiss wasn't mad. The dealer in Wisconsin had said it was a very special rifle, and it was also one that Tom had never seen among Weiss's large collection in the basement, but maybe it hadn't been as special as the dealer had said...

"Hey isn't the M85 one of those super rare ones that you've been searching for since forever but never managed to find one that looked at least remotely decent?" Jost asked, winking at Tom who raised a curious eyebrow.

Weiss sent Jost a strange look that Tom couldn't interpret; "Yeah. It's nice," he said stiffly, giving Tom a court nod.

Involuntarily, Tom smiled brightly; that was all the reassurance he needed, and so he returned to the other small presents scattered under the tree; they were all from Natalie.

While Tom unpacked, Weiss busied himself with taking apart the entire rifle and inspecting it thoroughly, oiling and cleaning random parts of it. Jost just lay around lazily, watching them.

Did Jost not have anyone else to spend Christmas with? Natalie had told him that Christmas was usually spent with family and loved ones — did he not have anyone like that?

Tom felt a bit sorry him; he knew what it was like not having anyone, and thought it was rather odd for Jost because he seemed like such a nice guy. Of course he had been scared of him at first, but today Tom really began liking him.

Natalie's presents turned out to be books — all of them. They weren't really like the other books that Tom usually read which mostly contained something war or rifle related, but instead just normal stories. Not even real stories — fantasy ones. Tom wasn't entirely certain what he should think of this; he knew what fantasy stories were, but had never read or, or been interested in reading one. Unrealistic things seemed so useless...

Tom's contemplation of fantasy novels was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Jost asked after it rang for the third time; where had Weiss gone...?

"Jörg's on the toilet, so you might want to pick up," Jost smiled after noticing him looking around in confusion.

Quickly Tom jumped to the phone before it stopped ringing and picked up anxiously, well remembering how the last time had gone that he had picked up. They barely ever got any phone calls and usually Weiss picked them up himself.

"Hello?" he muttered nervously.

"Hello? Christopher?"

Tom smiled at the familiar, loud voice on the line; "Hello Bill," he said softly.

"Hi! Merry Christmas!" Bill nearly yelled into the phone and Tom held the receiver away from his ear.

"To you too," he replied quietly; out of the corner of his eye he saw Jost staring at him with an amused expression and a raised eyebrow.

"What are you doing over at my dad's? Aren't you home with your mother? Is she there too? What are you all doing there? Oh! Are you all spending Christmas together? That's great! Cuz my dad was usually always alone which is like totally sad and stuff and I always told him to invite someone over but you know how my dad is, grumpy and stuff, but I think it's great! Wait what are you doing there? Oh my gosh! Did my dad finally ask your mom out? They're totally dating right? I knew it! I've been telling him forever that he needs to get a girlfriend and he often told me about your mom! So we're like related now right? That's so cool! I always wanted a brother! And we have the same birthday! Holy cow that is so awesome! We're gonna be like twins now!" Bill ranted endlessly while Tom blinked in confusion, trying to catch up with his impossibly fast talking; how could someone talk so much and so quickly without stumbling over their own words?

"Ah! I'm so excited! I can't wait to meet you! When I'm older and can afford it, I am totally coming over there to meet you guys! Or you could come over here! My dad said that he would visit us here some time, maybe even next year! Wouldn't that be totally awesome?" he continued excitedly.

"Uhm... yes," Tom mumbled dizzily, unsure whether Bill was expecting an answer or not, but since he had paused for a millisecond, Tom assumed it was so he could answer.

"Yeah it would be! Have you ever been to Germany?" he carried on.

"No..." Tom said slowly, though by now he knew a lot about it; he had read a lot of it in history books.

"It's awesome! But not as awesome as America... aw man, I would so love to live there at some point. When I grow up, I'm going to be super rich and famous and then I'm going to move to L.A.!" he babbled excitedly; "But holy cow, I have to stop talking or my mom's gonna be all over me again for talking so much. Ugh! Is my dad there?"

Tom turned to look and indeed, there was Weiss, glaring death at him from the hallway.

"Yes, he's here," he said quietly, holding the receiver up for Weiss who reached him in a few strides and snatched it away from him.

"Bill," he said passively while Tom joined Jost who was sniggering quietly.

"What? No... I-...No, that's not-" Weiss obviously couldn't talk over his son's incessant babbling either; "No we-...We're just- .... Actually that's not how-...I-... Yeah, Merry Christmas," he finally sighed, hanging up the phone once Bill was done babbling on the other end.

"You're always so eloquent," Jost laughed.

"Shut up, man," Weiss grumbled, still glaring at Tom; "What did I tell you about picking up the phone?" he growled lowly.

"Oh stop being such a sourpuss, dude — it's Christmas!"Jost laughed cheerfully; "Where's the eggnog?"

"We don't have any," Weiss sighed in defeat, returning to his half assembled rifle.

Jost gasped loudly; "What kind of a Christmas is this?"

Tom sat in uncertain silence, trying to make sense of the situation; Weiss always seemed so angry while Jost seemed to find it amusing, or vice versa... Tom never knew what to feel or how to behave in moments such as this, and right now it was even worse because he was still hung up on the conversation with Bill who now thought that Weiss was dating Natalie....what did that even mean? Tom wasn't sure what dating meant, but he assumed it meant something like being married given the context Bill had used it in, though he was quite certain that's not how things were between them.

It's not like he knew a lot of Weiss's romantic life, but he knew enough to know that Natalie was not one of the women he had in his bed since Weiss was generally not very discreet, so chances were Tom would have known if that was happening here.

Nevertheless he had to think about it, and about the fact that Bill wanted to come here at some point... What might he be like? He wanted to be Tom's friend, or... brother? That thought was beyond Tom's imagination, but reminded him painfully of the brother he had once had. He hadn't been at all like Bill.

 

In the following weeks, Tom spent his entire free time learning to play the guitar and piano. And training and riding Osiris. And reading fantasy novels that Natalie had given him for Christmas. And many other things; there was so much to do he sometimes didn't even know where to begin. The past few years of his life had been filled with nothing but sitting around in an empty cell, and now suddenly there were so many amazing things, all the time in the world wasn't enough to do them all.


	20. Chapter 20

Their life carried on normally, far past winter and into a summer that was far too hot for Tom's taste. He barely noticed as the months flew past him in a blur of a life he barely managed to catch up on and was nearly used to by now. Despite still being awkward around large crowds and Weiss, Tom had gotten very confident in his own way and followed his own beliefs and ideals.

Weiss was as cranky and moody as ever, but Tom had learned to live with it and barely minded the older man's harsh comments and insults that he directed at Tom whenever he felt like it. More often than not, Tom caught himself falling into the same behavior he saw from the older man, disrespecting life and treating everyone carelessly; except of course for Bill and their horses — they were Tom's best friends and ranked highest on his priority list; just like they did on Weiss'.

Once upon a time Tom had believed he would never turn into a man like Weiss, but the longer he stayed there, the more he adapted to the older man's way of life and view on things. The only thing he couldn't share at all was Weiss insatiable lust for sex with strangers, which was something Tom found terrifying and disgusting; he was quite certain that this was something he would never adapt to. Every time Weiss was with someone, Tom made sure to stay clear off their hotel, sometimes spending the entire night on the streets for fear of walking in on something and then having to listen to Weiss' taunting on how no one would ever desire to be with him, and how he was destined to stay alone forever because no one would ever care about someone like him.

Weiss' harsh treatment hadn't failed to lower Tom's self-esteem, and by now he was quite certain the other man was right; not only because he heard it all the time, but also because of the way others treated him: Weiss was the only one who was occasionally kind to him and tolerated him — everyone else only gave him suspicious, scared or disgusted looks. Except of course for Natalie but — like Weiss reminded him all the time — she was being paid to be nice to him, so that didn't count. There was also Jost who was nice, but they only saw him every few months when someone was injured due to some fight or other and in need of medical assistance, and there Weiss had also told him that they were paying him for it, so it's not like Jost was Tom's friend either.

The truth was that no person wanted to be friends with him, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, he was beginning to get horribly lonely. Whenever they went somewhere, he saw all other kids playing with their friends and hanging out, something he had never known and would never have; this was just one more of those many little things that Tom began to resent about life.

Of course having Weiss telling him how worthless he was all the time, didn't encourage him to try and make friends either, so by now he was just bitter and spiteful about the entire topic of people; they could all go to hell for all he cared.

Weiss' harsh training was really paying off, and by now Tom was able to handle nearly every situation on his own. Of course the other man always went with him to supervise his actions, but it was rare that Weiss complained about the events. However, up until now, the only sort of killing Tom had done was long distance shots; it was the safest, easiest way to eliminate someone, but sooner or later he would have to take out someone in a close range encounter as well.

They had been training many other combat methods over the past year and it was only a matter of time until Tom had to use those skills. For close encounters, Weiss' weapon of choice was a hunting knife; light, easy to handle and above all: silent. The most effective way to kill someone with this was to stab them through the submandibular triangle, which would prevent them from calling for help or screaming, and if stabbed hard enough, the knife could penetrate the head to kill them almost instantly.

Though Tom had practiced many different stabbing techniques on dummies, he knew that actually stabbing a person would be far harder; not only because the person would move and try to defend themselves, but also because of bones that could hinder the knife if it wasn't aimed correctly.

Up until today, Weiss had always gone to these kinds of jobs alone, but apparently he now thought that Tom was ready for the next step because they were in an alley behind a closed restaurant somewhere in Oslo. Supposedly their next target would be showing up here for some business deal, so now they did the main part of their job: waiting; sometimes they had to wait for hours, or even days until the target finally made an appearance, so by now Tom was already very patient. He had brought a book from Natalie along and sat in the car they had rented for their stay, absently listening to the music that Weiss listened to so he wouldn't fall asleep while he watched the restaurant for any sign of movement.

Norway had turned out to be a lot nicer than Tom had expected, since he had believed it to be really cold, but it was only late in august so the weather was actually great. The food wasn't really his taste, but that was to be expected because almost all countries they visited had food that Tom didn't like; he preferred the stuff that they cooked at home. Even though he loved the traveling aspect of their job, he was always relieved to be coming home to Bill and the horses who all waited anxiously for their return. A home was something Tom had yearned for ever since he had lost his own so many years ago, and now that he had found something remotely close to a home, he preferred to be there above all other places.

"They're here. Let's go," Weiss announced quietly, pulling Tom out of his fantasy novel.

Now that the moment was approaching, Tom began getting a little nervous, unsure of what to expect from all this. He had various different weapons concealed on his body, including various knifes and a gun with silencer, though he was only meant to use it in case of emergency.

Weiss unlocked the shabby back door to the kitchen which they found empty, just as expected. From the front part of the restaurant they heard voices, at least four different ones. Tom looked at Weiss for instructions, and the man gestured at him to stand behind the counter just the way they had planned. They had eaten at this restaurant yesterday evening so check out the location and see what they could work with; Weiss had chosen the kitchen because it offered many weapons of opportunity.

While Weiss hid behind the door, Tom removed a large pan that hung above the counter and dropped it to the floor with a loud rattle that immediately caused the conversation in the dining area to die out. A few things were being asked and said in Norwegian, and a moment later footsteps approached the kitchen. Tom ducked behind the counter, only peeking around the side just in time to see a man walking in and flipping on the lights with his free hand while the other held a raised gun that he aimed around the empty room.

As the door slowly fell shut behind him, it revealed Weiss who stood behind it. With one large step he had reached the other man and wrapped his hand around the surprised man's mouth, simultaneous stabbing the knife into his temple; the man made a quiet panic noise that was muffled by Weiss' hand, and slowly sank down to the floor, limps twitching uncontrollably.

In Tom's opinion, this part was always the worst; right before someone died. No matter how effective the kill was, it always took a little time for someone to die, and watching that was disturbing no matter how often he saw it. And of course today he was seeing it at a very close distance which made it a lot worse.

Once the man had stopped twitching and someone from the dining area was calling something, Weiss dragged the lifeless man behind the counter where Tom helped him put everything out of sight. Of course a large blood trail was visible from the place he'd been stabbed, but that couldn't be avoided.

The L shaped counter offered plenty of space to hide, and Weiss crept behind the longer side of the L to be away from the blood trail that led to where Tom was sitting next to the dead man.

It only took a few seconds before the door banged open and two more men walked in, immediately yelling something upon seeing the blood, and heading towards Tom with raised guns, however before they got very far, Weiss came out from behind the other side of the counter, stabbing one of them in the neck while kicking the other into a wall.

A large chaos followed that Tom could barely keep up with as they were joined by two other men yet again. By now one of them had discovered Tom behind the counter, and aimed his gun at him; Tom sat frozen in place, completely overwhelmed by the terrifying situation. He knew he should be pulling his own gun to defend himself, but he had never been so close to someone he was meant to kill before, and momentarily lost all ability to react.

Lucky for Tom, the man seemed completely stunned at finding such a young child that he hesitated for a moment, staring bewildered at Tom who was covered in the other man's blood. A second went by in which they just stared at each other, but the moment was soon broken by a knife that shot right into the man's face, causing him to groan and fall down, shooting at the ceiling in the process.

"Do something!" Weiss snarled angrily while he fought with the last remaining man who eventually ended up shot with his own gun.

"What have I told you? Don't ever hesitate!" Weiss panted, shoving the dead man off the counter and glaring down at Tom in disapproval. "Let's go. That was a lot louder than intended and the cops should be here any minute," he finally growled, ripping his knife out of the man's head and wiping it on his shirt.

Shakily, Tom staggered out of the kitchen and into the car. His body was trembling with adrenaline and his hands were so cold he could barely feel them when they finally pulled out of the alley and into the main street.

"I should have known you'd be useless at this as well. I'm beginning to think this might be the wrong life for you," Weiss growled darkly.

"N-no," Tom stuttered immediately; "I'm sorry. I can do better," he promised, horrified that Weiss would get rid of him if he truly believed that Tom was useless at this. No matter how nasty Weiss may be at times, Tom was glad to be with him; if the man decided to get rid of him, he would have nowhere else to go, and no one who would want him.

Weiss just sighed, shaking his head, and Tom gave him a careful glance; his bottom lip was bleeding and he was holding his left hand to his right arm while driving, obviously pressing down on whatever wound he had obtained.

"I'm sorry," Tom mumbled again, referring to the wound the other man had gotten because Tom was useless.

"Just shut up, you useless runt. I'm so tired of hearing your pathetic apologies — if you're really sorry, work harder next time and stop being so stupid," Weiss sneered coldly.

Tom nodded in silence, promising himself he'd do better next time.

The drive to their hotel was short, and soon enough Tom found himself safe and sound tucked into bed at nearly 2am.

Weiss was still finishing in the bathroom, probably tending to whatever injuries he had, but soon enough came into their bedroom, tossing a bloody towel next to his bed that stood across the room from Tom's. Cautiously, Tom peeked out from under his covers to see the extent of Weiss' injuries; his right upper arm was bandaged and there were various bruises on the man's sides and stomach. The view was soon cut by Weiss getting into bed and turning off the lights, leaving Tom to stare into the darkness in misery; today had been an absolute disaster.

~*~

Jörg rolled over to face the wall, going over the events of the evening. Tonight had gone a lot better than he had expected, despite the boy nearly getting himself killed; he had stuck to the plan and done everything Jörg had instructed, except for the defending thing, but that really wasn't surprising. He well knew how scary those situations were, even after the hundredth time of being in them, and he hadn't expected the boy to react in any other fashion; it was quite impressive how calm and rational the kid had managed to stay throughout the entire ordeal, so Jörg was quite satisfied with him. Why hadn't he been able to tell him that?

No matter how often Jörg promised himself to be kinder to the boy and praise him a little bit, he always did the opposite out of fear of losing him. As soon as that kid's self-esteem reached a normal level, he would realize he didn't need Jörg and leave; for some weird reason the mere thought made Jörg sick, and he did everything to avoid the boy ever knowing how amazing he was.

Of course he was painfully aware that this was not at all what the boy should be doing; he should be going to school, spending his afternoons hanging out with friends and playing video games, not training how to kill people... But Tom's childhood had ended long before they met, and there really wasn't anything Jörg could do to give that lost innocence back.

No matter how wrong it was of him to teach the child these kinds of things and put him in situations such as this one, it was way too late to turn back now and the boy was a great asset, so they would carry as normal; perhaps it would provide him with a future that he would otherwise not be able to afford.


	21. Chapter 21

Tom rolled over with a sleepy moan, blinking into the sunlight; why was it so bright already...? With a horrified gasp, he sat upright and reached for his alarm that read 10:42. Had he forgotten to set it? No way... Today was... Tom paused, suspiciously staring at the alarm that was turned off. Had Weiss turned it off?

A warm feeling crept over him as he slowly lay back down. That's right; today was the 1st of September, he remembered fondly.

Last year he had believed the whole birthday thingy was more of a onetime thing, but apparently Weiss intended to make this day special for him as well.

Excitedly he jumped back up and dashed into the bathroom, wanting to get downstairs as soon as possible; could it be that he got cake today again? The last time he had eaten sweets had been to something called Easter, but that was rather long ago and he couldn't wait to have some more of that stuff again.

After a rather flimsy shower, he hurried downstairs to find Weiss on his usual spot on the couch, going over work.

"Good morning," Tom said breathlessly and Weiss lifted his head lazily.

"Morning," he greeted like always before returning to his papers.

Tom wasn't sure if today was different or not; sure, usually they met in the kitchen for a light breakfast before training at 5:30, but Weiss didn't seem all that different than on any other day. Except of course for the fact that it was nearly 11 and he didn't complain that Tom had just gotten up now; that had to mean something, right?

Slowly Tom headed for kitchen but found it in its ordinary state without anything that may indicate to any birthdays. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was being spoiled and idiotic, he couldn't help but be a little disappointed; then he remembered how good he had it in life and that he really shouldn't ask for so much.

A bit downcast, he proceeded to eat some oatmeal with fruits while he contemplated what he should do now; this was not the ordinary situation and he wasn't prepared for it. Should he go train? But it was already so late... On any other day he would be long done with that and already outside to clean up the stables... Maybe he should skip the training and go straight outside?

After finishing the very small breakfast — he just wasn't feeling all that hungry — he decided to head outside; if Weiss had a problem with that he would stop him on his way out anyway.

However once he entered the living room, Weiss wasn't there anymore so Tom went ahead with his plan, sneaking out quietly just in case the man was somewhere around.

The day was warm, but not too hot, offering the perfect weather for him; perhaps he would be able to ride out a bit later before Natalie came over.

Lazily he strolled down the small path to the stables, suppressing the silly feeling of wanting to run instead of walk; despite not having gotten any cake, Weiss had obviously remembered his birthday because the alarm had been turned off, and that was enough for Tom to feel appreciated and cared for.

To his great surprise he found the barn already cleaned, with fresh hay filled up. He didn't bother to suppress the happy laugh that wanted to come out; he couldn't believe Weiss had actually bothered to do that for him. In the past year it had become his unspoken job to care for the horses, and as gladly as he did it, it was still nice to not do it one day.

Happily he skipped back outside, taking Osiris' sidepull with him and climbing through the wooden fence into the large paddock where the horses were grazing by the chestnut tree. Since he didn't have to do the stables today and Weiss obviously didn't have any current plans for him, he might as well ride out a little bit before the other man showed up again and told him to do something.

Osiris was bridled in just one second and knelt down for Tom to climb on before they galloped down the endless fields; Anubis and Bill joined them, excitedly running next to them while Tom laughed happily for no reason at all. Today was promising to be a really nice day.

Or not.

It was less than 20 minutes later when it suddenly began to pour so heavily Tom thought the sky might be drowning. He hadn't even been that far away from the barn anymore when it began to rain, but by the time he finally arrived, he was drenched to his skin.

Quickly he removed the bridle from Osiris who trotted lazily back out onto the field, happy that it was cooling down a bit, and Tom made his way back into the house, wringing the water from his clothes. Generally, he really loved the rain, but sometimes it was really annoying, especially when it had been so nice outside and he had actually wanted to stay out all day.

Since Weiss probably wouldn't appreciate all the water he carried with him, Tom decided to go in through the kitchen so he might be able to dry himself off a bit before going upstairs, however as he entered, he stopped short; there was the cake! Tom almost screeched in excitement but managed to turn it into a, hopefully, rather mild smile.

Sitting on the table was a chocolate cheesecake with a burning candle shaped like a 14, and Weiss was leaning against the counter, drinking something from a mug; Tom had a déjà-vu from his last birthday. Except this time, there was no guitar sitting next to the table but a blue envelope next to the cake instead.

"Happy birthday," Weiss smiled one of those rare smiles that Tom had come to appreciate. Even though Weiss might be a natural born jerk, he had his moments and Tom loved them — as rare as they might be.

"Thank you," he smiled brightly, not able to contain his happiness any longer.

Weiss just nodded lazily; "Make a wish," he said in an unusually soft tone.

"What?" Tom asked in confusion; why was he supposed to make a wish...? A wish for what? From whom?

"It's a birthday thing. Never heard of it?" Weiss chuckled while he removed two plates from the cabinet.

"No," Tom mumbled, expecting the man to say something like 'of course you haven't, you're stupid,' or something like the things he usually said whenever Tom said he didn't know something, but instead he just smiled, setting the plates on the table while Tom sniffed quietly, rubbing the water from his face; he was beginning to get really cold.

"You're supposed to make a wish while blowing out the candle," he explained.

"A wish for what...?" Tom asked carefully; he hated asking Weiss things because he got nasty replies most of the time, but today he was feeling a bit optimistic.

"Anything you want. But you're not allowed to tell anyone or it won't come true," he chuckled.

Tom gave him a dubious look; "And if I don't tell anyone it will come true?" he really couldn't imagine that happening.

Weiss laughed warmly; "Probably not but it can't hurt to try, right?"

Tom raised a skeptical eyebrow, really not believing this theory, but if that's what people did... He might as well give it a try. But what did he wish for? He had already gotten so much — he didn't want to ask for anything else because he was afraid to sound selfish. Maybe just a really small thing that wouldn't matter a lot?

Something like... Weiss' son calling again...? Or was that too much to ask for?

"You might want to make that wish quickly or the candle will have burned out," Weiss said quietly with another smile.

Tom nodded quickly, making up his mind; 'I wish Bill would call again', he whispered mentally at... whoever it was that made birthday wishes come true, while he blew out the candle. 'It doesn't need to be right now or anything, just maybe at some point?' he added quickly, not wanting to sound too greedy.

~*~

Now Jörg really wished he hadn't told the boy he wasn't meant to tell anyone what he wished for; the kid was smiling softly, staring down at the cake in contentment. What had he wished for? What went on behind his beautiful, sad eyes that were far too deep for someone his age?

Distractedly he shook his head, handing the boy the knife to cut his cake but he just gave him a rather disturbed, confused look.

"Shall I cut it?" Jörg offered gently, amused that the boy was disturbed by cutting up the cake; he knew that the kid had problems with 'destroying' nice things, even if they were designed for it. 'But no problem whatsoever with destroying human life... A psychiatrist would have a fieldtrip with this' he chuckled mentally. "Why don't you go upstairs to dry off before you catch a cold, and I'll cut the cake meanwhile?"

The boy nodded with another sniffle and ran upstairs, obviously not wanting to wait too long for candy.

Jörg chuckled quietly when the kid returned not 2 minutes later with a towel around his head and a fresh set of dry clothes.

Just like last year, the boy was completely absorbed by his cake, oblivious to the rest of the world while he devoured the desert. It was incomprehensible to Jörg that, despite knowing all about candy and how to obtain it, the kid never ever bought any. He had thought that at least after Easter where Natalie had brought over a giant bag filled with chocolates of all sorts, the boy would resort to spending half his money on candy, but nothing. The kid saved everything he earned, and stored it all in an old sock inside a teapot in his room even though Jörg had opened a bank account for him long ago.

Of course it was a good thing that the boy saves his money instead of squandering it around, but sometimes Jörg wished he would squander just a little bit; just so he could buy some of those really useless, dumb things that kids wanted all the time. But somehow Tom didn't seem interested in any of that and was perfectly content with the things Weiss got for him; which was really nothing except for food and clothes. And instruments. And music notes to play them. Which the boy also did a lot, and had improved to the point that Jörg wished he would spend the entire day playing. As useless as the kid may be with human interaction, he made up for it with talent in many other sectors; of course Tom's inability to communicate or interact with people was also Jörg's fault, and he knew it, but he preferred it that way. He was egoistic and wanted Tom all to himself.

Which was why it was so hard for him to give the boy his present this year; he still had half a mind of forgetting it and not giving him anything at all, but then he saw the boy's sparkling eyes and forgot all about his selfishness, wanting nothing more than to see him smile.

"Open it," he said softly once the boy was nearly done with his cake and eyed the envelope curiously; obviously he wasn't sure if it was for him or not, and needed an invitation. Perhaps he should write his name on it next year.

~*~

Hesitantly Tom reached for the large, blue envelope, giving the man a polite smile before carefully opening it. It was filled with a lot of papers of some kind, and he pulled the whole colorful pile out, spreading it on the table.

It was a collection of travel brochures for Paris. Tom stared at the many colorful flyers and guides that all showed French structures he had seen in books; he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do with all this, but it was colorful and nice, and he liked it very much. Immediately he thought of hanging some of those pictures up in his room for decoration.

"Thank you," he murmured at Weiss while he looked at a particularly nice picture of the Eiffel Tower; he had always wanted to go there.

Weiss nodded, gathering their plates to put them away while Tom picked up all the scattered papers in his arms, trying not to squish any of them, and headed upstairs to his room to take a closer look and maybe hang some up on his walls somewhere.

Once in his room, he dumped it all on the bed and began sorting through the many flyers that looked like advertisements for things: museums, theatres, random tourist attractions, pretty much everything someone could do while visiting Paris.

Tom sighed melancholically; it looked so nice. He was particularly fascinated by the things related to music - concerts, musicals or ballets - he really wanted to see one someday but obviously hadn't had the chance to yet. Weiss wasn't particularly interested in music and Tom was glad he had gotten the instruments so he wasn't about to complain, but the flyers still made him eager to watch all these things someday.

A few moments into his sorting, he came across a small, white envelope that he had missed earlier among all the papers. Carefully he ripped it open and stared at the content; it was a plane ticket from Denver to Paris.

Tom blinked a few times, just to make sure he was seeing right. It's not like he hadn't travelled by plane such distances before, it wasn't that rare that they went abroad, but never had it been a single ticket for him; wait... was he supposed to travel alone?

Hastily he pulled the other sheet of paper from the envelope, but the only thing it had was a hotel reservation in Paris for seven days which was placed under his name. Tom Weiss. He still wasn't used to that name.


	22. Chapter 22

As incredible as this was, Tom's mind kept spinning around the fact that he was meant to go alone. Was Weiss really letting him stay an entire week on his own? In Paris?!

Nearly stumbling over his own feet, Tom dashed back downstairs and burst into the kitchen to an eyebrow raising Weiss who was putting away the rest of the cake.

"Um," Tom mumbled, holding up the plane ticket.

"What? You don't want to go?" Weiss asked passively.

"No, I do, of course. But... where is your ticket?" he asked carefully.

"I don't have one, you're going alone. I thought it would be good since you're learning French and all that. Natalie says you're very talented with languages and it would be good to support that, so I thought a week in Paris would be good for you," Weiss smiled gently; "Perhaps we'll go to Germany soon too so you can work on your German skills."

"What? How...?" Tom stuttered in disbelief; he hadn't even told Natalie that he'd been learning German – how had Weiss found out about that?

"90% of our job is observation – you really think I'll miss something going on in my own home?" Weiss chuckled quietly before finishing what was left in his cup from earlier and putting it into the sink.

"Oh," Tom mumbled stupidly, giving him a fearful glance but Weiss didn't seem bothered by it. Tom had begun learning German almost exactly one year ago. After meeting Bill.

"Do you not want to go to Paris?" Weiss asked, oddly enough not at all annoyed.

"I do!" Tom said immediately; of course he wanted, he just wasn't sure he wanted to go alone. He hated going to places alone; there were so many people and he was scared of them.

"But?" Weiss asked gently, encouraging him to be honest.

"...Why aren't you going, too?" he asked carefully, not daring to say that that was what he wanted.

~*~

Jörg hoped the boy couldn't hear his heart beginning to pick up an insane pace while he tried to remain as calm as possible; did Tom want him to go with him...?! He had actually wanted to give the kid some private time away from all this – away from him – was that not what he wanted?

"Would you like me to go with you?" he asked as passively and calmly as he could; somehow the boy roused feelings in him that he hadn't had since he was the kid's age himself.

The boy looked very hesitant but eventually nodded feebly, staring up at him with those huge, horrified eyes. Jörg couldn't stop himself from grinning like an idiot; "I'll book another ticket then," he told the nervous kid, trying to calm his ridiculous excitement down - he couldn't believe how much this was affecting him, but the fact that Tom would rather go with him than alone made him feel unbelievably incredible.

"I'll change your ticket so we'll be on the same flight," he forced out calmly, taking the ticket from the boy and heading upstairs to hide the persistent smile that wouldn't leave his face.

~*~

Tom nodded numbly at Weiss' slightly annoyed glance, watching as the man disappeared upstairs; hopefully he wasn't too disappointed that Tom was such a coward and didn't want to go alone... Now he regretted having said anything. He could have just sucked it up and gone alone but... ever since he had been by Weiss' side, things had gone great in his life and he was afraid that if the man left him he would somehow end up with a miserable existence again, even if it was just for a one week trip. Anything could happen in one week without Weiss.

Tom was pulled from his day-mares by a ring from the phone right next to him that nearly startled him to death. Without thinking twice, he picked up the receiver; "Hello?" he asked breathlessly, still a bit shaken from the scare.

"Christopher?"

Tom's heart skipped a beat as his birthday wish suddenly came true.

"Bill," he breathed out silently.

"Hi! Happy birthday!" Bill yelled excitedly into the phone.

"To you too," Tom almost laughed, so happy that Bill had called.

"Are you always at my dad's place now? Are you and your mom living there now? Oh my gosh are our parents gonna have more kids? I always wanted a baby brother or sister! My mom said it was great that my dad finally got a girlfriend because she said that he was emotionally screwed up – whatever that might mean, and seriously needed some emotional stability – whatever that might mean, and that your mom was really good for him so that he would stop being distanced and all that stuff. Is he still like that? Does he ever do stuff with you? Cuz when he's here he's always just like, blaaaaaahb never doing anything and just like, whatever. It's probably cuz he really hates kids and stuff, so it's kinda weird that he's dating your mom since she has like, kids and stuff. But he's still really nice to me and brings me awesome presents whenever he comes to visit! Which is like, never – seriously I haven't seen him like, 3 years or something but he said that he was totally going to come visit us soon again! Maybe you can come too and then we can meet and do awesome stuff together like what I did today! I got cake and I would totally send you some if they had those really cool teleportation things where you could send someone food over the phone. They should really invent that soon so I could send you birthday cake and you could send me some of yours! My dad once told me that American cakes aren't as good as German ones but I bet he was totally lying about that. And the cake is best when you drink it with milk – do you drink milk, being vegetarian and all? But milk doesn't count because that doesn't hurt the cow right? I think it doesn't and I really like cows even though they always walk so slowly, but I totally understand because otherwise they would spill all their milk," Bill babbled so fast he barely had time to catch his breath.

Tom just listened, trying to follow him; Bill was hard to understand sometimes because he had an awful accent and talked so fast that he stumbled over his own words, and though Tom really didn't think that Bill's information regarding cows was accurate, he didn't want to interrupt his endless ranting.

"Except for Andreas," Bill was still babbling; "He's not allowed to drink milk because he's lastos intolerant or something but whatever – Andreas is a friend of mine. You should meet him, he's so awesome and we're in a band together! With my other friends, Georg and Gustav that you totally have to meet when you come here and then we can all hang out and go-"

"Who's on the phone?" Weiss interrupted sharply, coming down the stairs and glaring at Tom who had lowered the receiver and could no longer hear Bill.

"Bill," Tom mumbled fearfully, handing him the phone.

Weiss just gave him a disapproving look while he lifted the receiver to his ear and raised an eyebrow; apparently Bill was still talking on the other end, unaware that the phone had switched users.

After a few seconds, Jörg sighed; "Bill," he groaned loudly, quickly holding the phone away from his ear when a loud 'dad' could be heard from it.

Tom smiled quietly at himself while he walked up the stairs, removing the wet towel from his head to hang it up to dry.   
Even though he hadn't really managed to talk Bill, he had listened to his rambling for a bit, and began looking forward to Christmas; would Bill call again?   
Would Weiss really go visit his family sometime soon? Even if he did though, he probably wouldn't take Tom with him, right?   
On the other hand, he had said something about maybe going to Germany so Tom could improve his German; had he planned on taking Tom to meet his family...? Surely not... Weiss disapproved of Tom's knowledge of Bill, so he probably didn't want them to meet.

And it's not like Tom didn't know what was going on. He well knew that Weiss kept him a secret from his family, going along with Bill's crazy assumptions about Tom being Christopher, the son of the woman he was supposedly dating. No – there was no way Weiss planned on introducing him to Bill. It was probably better that way... Bill would just be scared of him like all other kids were.

With a sigh, Tom sat back down by all his flyers and brochures about Paris, trying to take his mind off Bill.   
A wet nose poked his cheek gently, and Tom looked at Bill who wagged his tail lazily, wanting to be cuddled. Bill always knew when Tom wasn't feeling well and always comforted him.

"Hey Bill," Tom smiled softly, wrapping his arms around the dog who sat down on top of all the Paris papers, crumpling a few of them, but Tom didn't care right now because he wanted to cuddle.

"Welcome to Paris, ladies and gentleman. The entire team wishes you a pleasant stay and thanks you for flying Air France."

In silent happiness, Tom followed Weiss through the Charles de Gaulle airport, down to the Metro station where Weiss bought two tickets for them. Even though Tom was quite used to travelling by now, this time it was different because they weren't in a hurry to get to a certain destination; it was a slow, pleasurable trip during which he had plenty of time to admire the foreign surroundings.

He had wanted to come to Paris ever since he had found out that it existed, and now that he was finally approaching the city he had a hard time believing this was all real.

Three weeks had passed since his birthday, but he still couldn't believe that Weiss was actually taking him on a leisure trip to Europe. Sometimes he was certain that Weiss had a job to do here, but then he remembered that initially the man had only gotten a ticket for Tom. So maybe it really was all for him then; the thought never failed to make him smile.

 

Unlike all the other times they travelled somewhere, they weren't staying in a run-down old roadside motel or something but in a nice hotel where Tom had his own room. 'Probably so Weiss can find some girl or other,' Tom thought in disgust as he closed the door to his room and locked it in order to begin getting settling in; they would be staying here an entire week, after all.

It didn't take long for him to unpack his small bag, and soon enough he was ready for dinner - though at this point he would much rather have gone to sleep; they had had an 11 hour trip behind them and he hadn't managed to sleep at all on the plane. It didn't matter how often he flew, he remained unable to get any rest - unlike Weiss who seemed to sleep like a rock, but all the strange people made him nervous and impossible for him to find any sleep.   
Being in other peoples' presence was unsettling, even in Weiss', so he was very grateful whenever he had his own room.

Luckily he didn't have to wait too much because Weiss knocked on his door just a moment after Tom had changed into a new set of clothes.   
Unlike the usual, impatient call however, Weiss just waited outside until Tom came out; the man also seemed to be in a rather good mood today.

"Hungry?" Weiss smiled down at him as they boarded the elevator; Tom nodded enthusiastically - exhaustion completely forgotten.

"I thought we'd go around l'île de la Cité - there are a lot of great restaurants there. What do you think?" Weiss asked almost cheerfully while they headed to the Metro. Of course Tom had no idea what he was talking about, so he just nodded again; he didn't really care where they went as long as it had food.

As it turned out, close to l'île de la Cité, just over the Seine, there were more restaurants than Tom had ever seen in his life and he had a hard time choosing one. Everything was crowded with loud people that made him really nervous, so he made sure to stay close to Weiss in order not to lose him in the ocean of strangers.

At the entrance of many restaurants there were a lot of broken dishes, and every once in a while he heard someone smashing them at the steps of the restaurants; Tom was horrified.

"What are they doing?" he asked in disbelief as another person smashed a plate, receiving cheers from his comrades.

"It's a silly tradition of some kind. If you liked the food at the restaurant, you can smash a plate at its steps, and so people will know which restaurants are very good to go eat in," Weiss chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

Tom didn't really agree with this at all; how dare they just destroy so many plates.

"Why don't we just go into this one? It's got plenty of broken plates," Weiss grinned and pointed at the restaurant that Tom was glaring at.

Obviously Weiss didn't care that he was upset about the plates because he went inside, not waiting for Tom's reply; he hurried in after him, not wanting to be left alone on the crowded street.

Awkwardly, Tom sat opposite of Weiss on the small table in a corner of the crowded restaurant where they were soon greeted by a waiter; "Bonjour, monsieur. Est-ce que vous voulez quelque chose à boire pour commencer?"

Tom only understood something about ordering drinks...? He was so not ready for a visit to France.

"Oui, je prends un vin rouge, s'il vous plaît," Weiss ordered; "Et une bouteille d'eau minérale."

'What was that? Wine and a bottle of water...?' Tom was beginning to panic.

"Bien sûr, et votre fils?" the waiter turned to Tom with an expectant smile.

'Votre fils'? Didn't that mean your son or something...? Oh right, he was supposed to be Weiss' son... Tom sometimes forgot about that.  
The waiter was still waiting, and obviously getting rather impatient; "Orange juice, please," Tom mumbled awkwardly.

The waiter looked back at Weiss with a raised eyebrow; had he seriously not understood Tom, or was he just refusing to speak English? The French were so weird sometimes.

"Jus d'orange," Weiss translated with a rather cold smile directed at the waiter who left after a court nod.

"You're supposed to be practicing your French," Weiss chuckled once the waiter was out of hearing range.

Tom just mumbled inaudibly to himself; he didn't want to speak French when someone was listening - least of all Weiss. Why did he speak French anyway?

Awkwardly he focused back on the menu that was both in English and French; almost everything contained meat: steaks... lobsters... shrimps... venison... 'What the heck is that?' And... Frogs' legs?! Tom nearly shrieked, staring in disbelief at the menu.

"I-I think they made a mistake here," he stammered, pointing at the menu once Weiss raised a curious eyebrow. "It says frogs," Tom scrunched his nose up in disgust but Weiss just laughed.

"It's a delicacy here. You should try it," he grinned.

Tom pulled a face; "What's a delissy? They eat frogs?!"

"A delicacy is something special and expensive. And yes, they do eat that." Obviously Weiss was not shocked at all about this; he actually looked rather amused.

"Why? Can they not afford anything else?" Tom began to feel pity for these poor French people if they could afford nothing better than insects.

"Sure they can, but it's considered something really good here," the man explained patiently.

"Why?" Tom asked in disbelief; surely Weiss was joking and trying to mess with him, right?

"I don't know... the French are weird like that. They enjoy slimy, gross things... frogs, snails... cheese that smells as if it would have died three months ago..." he shrugged.

"S-snails?" Tom sputtered, about to be sick.

"Mhm," Weiss nodded, flicking through his menu; "Here it is: escargots à la bourguignonne: snails with garlic-herb butter and baguette."

"I want to go to another restaurant," Tom stated firmly; there was no way he would eat food from an insect-infested kitchen.

"Most restaurants here serve that, especially the good ones," Weiss said with another laugh just as the waiter arrived with their drinks.

"Est-ce que vous avez choisi?" the waiter asked once he set their drinks down; Weiss had indeed ordered red wine and a bottle of water.

Weiss nodded; "Je pense que oui. Tom?"

"What? Tom asked bluntly, not having understood much.

"Ready to order?" he chuckled.

"Oh um... yeah... I'm having a mixed salad," Tom said to the waiter who either couldn't understand him, or was refusing to do so.

"Il prend une salade mixte," Weiss translated with a sigh.

"Bien sûr, monsieur. Et pour vous?" the waiter asked politely.

"Je voudrais les cuisse de grenouilles à la sauce poulette," Weiss ordered for himself.

"Merci, monsieur," the waiter left with their menus after having scribbled their orders down.

Tom gave Weiss a suspicious look; what had he ordered...? Had he misunderstood Weiss or had the man seriously ordered frogs for dinner? Tom's appetite was officially gone.

"Don't pull a face like that," Weiss laughed again; "People eat far worse."

"Like what? It's bad enough they eat baby cows and chickens - because that's just wrong - but insects? That's wrong on a whole other, really disgusting, level," Tom snorted indignantly.

"Don't always be so quick to judge things. Just because something sounds or looks disgusting, doesn't always mean it is," Weiss said with an unusual smile that made Tom feel a bit uncomfortable; was he trying to imply something with that...?

"Anyway," Weiss continued before Tom could think any more of it; "Have you got any plans? Things you'd like to see here?"

"Oh... no. Well... Um," there were a lot of things Tom really wanted to see, he just wasn't sure if Weiss would agree to that.

"We're here for you, so whatever you want to see is fine," the older man smiled one of those rare smiles again that always encouraged Tom; and of course his words were very encouraging too - it wasn't every day that something was being done just for him, after all.

"I would like to see the Eiffel Tower," Tom said the first thing on his list.

"Of course, but what else?" Weiss chuckled.

"Oh um... I thought that maybe we could go to the Garnier...?" he asked hesitantly; he didn't want to push the other man.

"The opera Garnier?" Weiss raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Tom nodded feebly.

"Sure, we can go tomorrow," the man smiled again, just as their dinner arrived.

Tom stared at the weird food on Weiss' plate; it had a creamy color, with herbs and random pieces of... frog in it.

"Want one?" Weiss grinned, sticking his fork into the plate and lifting it up for Tom to look at the frog-half that was stuck to it; Tom nearly wailed in disgust. It actually still looked like a frog; it had the two hind legs and the torso attached.

"No thank you," he muttered sickly.

Weiss just shrugged with a chuckle, and Tom watched in morbid fascinating as the man nibbled off the small pieces of meat before placing the tiny bones on the designated plate.

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," Tom muttered, more to himself; for a second he thought Weiss might get angry for the rude comment, but the man just laughed.

"Come on, try on," he grinned, holding the fork up again.

Tom stared at the dead animal held in front of his face; should he try?   
Very hesitantly he took the suspicious object from the fork with his fingers, trying to touch it as little as possible, and gave it a careful lick. It wasn't as bad as he had expected. It wasn't slimy or gross - it just tasted like herbs and sauce.

If he hadn't known what it was that he was eating, he might have actually enjoyed the taste, but knowing it was a dead frog kinda ruined it for him.

Weiss just laughed heartedly, making Tom smile as well; alright, so the frog thing was gross but at least the rest of the evening had turned out very pleasantly. 

 

"Come on, do it!" Weiss encouraged him once they were done with their dinner (Tom had only licked the frog but not eaten it).

"I will not!" Tom said outraged.

"Come on, you know you want to!" Weiss lured.

Tom was almost compelled to laugh but tried to keep a straight face despite Weiss being so ridiculous; what was wrong with him all of a sudden?

"I do not," Tom refused again.

"Come on. I'll do it too," Weiss grinned.

"This is ridiculous," Tom fought down a smile; was he actually having fun...? With Weiss...?

"Doo iiit!" Weiss urged him on.

"Oh fine!" Tom grumbled, taking the plate from the older man and smashing it into the ground. It was a lot more fun than it looked.

Weiss laughed and cheered, also taking a plate from the large stash and throwing it on the ground; "Don't even try to tell me smashing plates isn't fun," he grinned.

Tom rolled his eyes; "Well maybe just a little bit," he mumbled, trying to hide his smile.


	23. Chapter 23

Just like they had said last night at dinner, they went to visit the Opera Garnier today after breakfast. The structure was just as beautiful as it had been on the pictures Tom had seen, but the surroundings were less than inviting for him; everything was crowded with loud tourists who were taking pictures and running around aimlessly. Of course he and Weiss were also tourists, but it didn't make the other tourists less annoying to him, and he would have much rather preferred the place to be devoid of any life other than his and Weiss'. Yes, Weiss was fine - everyone else was just a bother to him. When had he started not minding the man's presence?

"Want to take some pictures?" Weiss asked, handing him the camera that had been hanging around his neck.

Tom gave him a suspicious look; Weiss usually never took pictures when they went somewhere. At least not for fun, only as proof that they had killed someone or to make sure they left the crime scene just as it had been before, but of course this here was a bit different.   
Awkwardly, he took the offered camera and placed the strap around his neck, just in case he dropped it or something; the camera looked expensive and he really didn't want to break it or anything.   
With another hesitant glance at Weiss, who gave him an encouraging nod, he switched it on and aimed it at the impressive ceiling of the opera. Looking through the lens reminded him a bit about looking through the telescope of a rifle, except now the view was not aimed at someone who would be dead soon but at the most beautiful ceiling he had ever seen.

They wandered through the opera for nearly two hours in silence while Tom stopped every few feet to take pictures of absolutely everything, to the point that he though Weiss would flip out, but apparently the man didn't mind him taking as many pictures as he wanted because he just strolled next to him in an unusually comfortable silence while Tom photographed absolutely everything – various times, just to make sure he had a good picture of it.

"How many pictures can I take?" Tom finally gathered enough courage to ask once they exited the building; he didn't want to fill up the entire memory card with just one visit to the opera.

"Don't worry, I brought a few spare memory cards. I doubt you can take that many pictures while we're here," Weiss chuckled.

Tom nodded, looking at the display that told him he had taken over 300 pictures already; hopefully Weiss was right. 

 

It was various hours later that they slowly returned to the Metro station, weaving through crowds of all races and ages; it reminded him of the time they had visited the Statue of Liberty. Why did these awesome places always have to be so crowded? Especially the Metro... Tom hated it.

And so, while they waited for the Metro to arrive, he focused on other people's conversations, especially one taking place among a group of British tourists who were talking about a musical that had supposedly taken place at the Garnier; Tom's interest was immediately roused – he'd heard about it before.

"Can we go to the theatre sometime?" he asked Weiss just as the Metro arrived. Tom had never been to the theatre, but the whole idea was fascinating and he'd read a lot about it. It was his ultimate dream to see music performed live on stage.

"Sure. To see what?" Weiss nodded as they got on the train.

"Today?" he asked in excitement; he had heard the tourist group talking about it.

Weiss laughed and nodded; "Sure, today," he agreed; "Do we know when and where?"

"Yes. Today at 3 at the theatre Mogador," Tom quoted the girl who had read it off a flyer earlier.

"Oh that. Yeah, I also heard them talking," Weiss smiled; "Sure. How about we grab some lunch and then ask at the hotel where the theatre is?" he suggested in that weird patient tone he'd had ever since they arrived in Paris. What was up with him lately? Did he really like it here...?

Tom just nodded in his usual fashion, not knowing what to say while he gave the man a critical stare; why was he so different here than... everywhere else?   
Eventually he forgot about it though because his mind was taken over by the upcoming food; it was almost 1 o'clock already, and it had been nearly 6 hours since his last meal. Yeah, he was definitely getting spoiled.

"So what do you want for lunch?" Weiss asked once they exited the Metro close to l'Île de la Cité again; this seemed to be one of their main places to be.

"Not frogs," Tom whispered quietly so only Weiss could hear him.

The man laughed - something he did a lot here; "How about snails then?"

Tom gave him a horrified look, shaking his head vehemently.

"I'm just kidding," the man laughed again, shaking his head as they began heading down the busy street. Tom gave him an odd, sidewise glance, still not used to this new side of him. He was almost... nice.

"We should have some crepes. Ever tried them?" Weiss pointed ahead of them at a random place.

Tom shook his head, having no idea what he was talking about, but not at all enthusiastic; crepes... that sounded so gross. It was probably something insect related again.

"They're really good, you have to try them," Weiss insisted while Tom pulled a disgusted face; he really didn't trust Weiss' judgement when it came to food anymore - after all the man had eaten frogs yesterday.

They stopped in front of the small... place that couldn't even be called a restaurant. It was just a small stand with a man who was pouring some kind of liquid dough on two large, round hot plates of some kind.   
Now, Tom was utterly fascinated as he watched the man making, presumably, crepes. He spread the dough very thin across the plates, turning them over before putting random things, such as jam or jelly, on them, folding them into a triangle and handing them to the customers, inside a small paper wrapping.

"Alright, what do you want on yours?" Weiss asked, looking at the signs.

Tom didn't really know how exactly this worked, so he just shrugged.

"Do you want sweet or salty? You can have it with jam or chocolate, or with ham and eggs. Anything you want," he said encouragingly.

"Not with ham," Tom said quietly, really not caring as long as it didn't have any meat in it.

Weiss smiled with a nod; "How about Nutella, bananas and whipped cream? I don't really like bananas, but I think you do, right?"

The only part Tom had understood was the banana one, so he quickly nodded.

"Great," Weiss agreed, beginning to order; "Je voudrais une crêpe au Nutella , banane et crème chantilly. Et une avec jambon et fromage, s'il vous plaît."

Tom had understood something about ham and cheese, and watched excitedly as the man proceeded to make their order.   
Weiss' crepe indeed contained ham and cheese, while his own was spread with something Tom believed to recognize as chocolate, though he wasn't entirely certain; it could also just be wishful thinking on his part.   
Once the crepe was covered in, hopefully, chocolate, the man cut a banana into small slices, spreading them around before spraying some weird white substance on it. Just like all other crepes, theirs were folded into triangles, placed inside paper wrappings and then handed to them.

Tom held both crepes, eyeing them suspiciously, while Weiss paid. Both crepes smelled really good, even though totally different; Tom was fascinated that crepes could be eaten in such a large variety.  
Once Weiss had put away his wallet, Tom handed him the cheese and ham crepe that Weiss immediately began eating. Tom himself was a little more reluctant, giving one corner a small nibble to see what exactly the chocolate looking thing was.   
Turns out it was indeed chocolate, though a slightly different one than the ones he had eaten so far; it was absolutely amazing. And the white stuff tasted really good too; he hadn't come around to the banana yet, but it didn't matter because he knew what that tasted like anyway, even though he didn't eat a lot of them because Weiss didn't like them and hardly ever bought any.

"Good?" Weiss asked with a chuckle; Tom just nodded.

~*~

Jörg had to keep himself from laughing at the kid's huge, excited eyes; obviously the Nutella combination had been the right choice. Just like every time with good food, the boy was lost in his own, oblivious world, slowly sauntering down the street, apparently unaware of the world around them.   
It always intrigued him that someone who showed so little emotion actually had so much, but kept it hidden almost all the time. The boy could be so passionate about so many things, and there was nothing more alluring for Jörg than watching him getting excited about something because it happened so very rarely.

Very slowly they headed down the street without a destination until they reached a small fountain where they paused to finish their lunch. They sat at the steps of the fountain that also hosted various other tourists, and he pulled out the Paris map to search for the theatre they wanted to go to later.   
Jörg wasn't really a big theatre fan, or anything else in the direction of performing arts, but if the kid wanted to go, who was he to refuse him; they were here for him after all.

The theatre Mogador wasn't too far away, less than 2 miles, so they were in no hurry to get there, and Tom stated that he wanted to walk; it wasn't a big surprise, given how much he hated the Metro, and Jörg had no objections so they decided to walk the distance which also gave the boy the opportunity to photograph absolutely everything on their way there.   
If the kid kept on taking pictures like this, the memory cards Jörg had brought might not be enough after all.

~*~

By the time they arrived at the theatre, it was already 2:38, and Tom was beginning to get paranoid that they wouldn't make it on time.   
Luckily though, the lady at the counter smiled and nodded when Weiss asked about the tickets, and soon handed him two paper strips; Tom could hardly contain his excitement.

It was only a few minutes later when they followed the chattering crowds of people deeper into the beautiful building.

"It's not allowed to take pictures of the play. I'll put the camera away and you can take more once we're out again," Weiss informed him, pointing at a sign that indicated no cameras.

Of course this was quite disappointing because he had really wanted to document his first theatre visit, but he handed Weiss the camera nonetheless, not wanting to cause him any trouble.

They walked up the stairs with the red carpeting, following the indications of the staff, onto the large balcony area that overlooked the stage. Many places were already filled and they had to squeeze past a few people to get to their seats; it was somewhat awkward for Tom, and he avoided looking up at the people he had to pass by, even though none seemed annoyed at their passing.   
They were seated quite far left, and probably didn't have the best view, but given how late they had bought the tickets, Tom was glad they got in at all.

The seats' red, velvety coating matched the carpets, and a large, crystal chandelier hung high up in the middle of the room, creating a luxurious atmosphere.   
Unfortunately he didn't have long to admire the surroundings because soon enough the lights dimmed and people began to clap; Tom had no idea why they were clapping, but clapped along as well, seeing as Weiss was doing it too.

As the clapping slowly died down, various figures walked onto the stage and the play began. Even though they spoke in French, Tom understood the scene was of some kind of auction that was taking place. He couldn't really understand the details of what was being said, but various characters placed bids on random objects, until the last auctioned lot, number 666, was revealed to be the large chandelier that suddenly lit up, accompanied by powerful music that vibrated through the entire room.  
Even though he couldn't explain why, the dramatic score and intense atmosphere filled him with an usual longing and nostalgia unlike any he had ever felt before.


	24. Chapter 24

The actors with the colorful costumes danced around the stage, playing out a story that Tom understood fairly little of. The dialogues and songs were all in French, and Tom's little knowledge of the language barely let him keep up with the fast pace of the musical. Perhaps if things would have gone a little slower or if he would have been reading it, he would have understood more of it, but the way it went here, he was mostly just enjoying the music, the feeling of being here, and the colorful display on stage.

But no matter how little he may have understood of the spoken language, he didn't miss the main points of the plot that revolved around a creepy man who was in love with a young singer, who, in turn, loved another man.   
Tom was captivated by the love triangle, unsure who it was that he wanted the young woman to be together with, though he was rooting for the scary guy in the mask because that just seemed more exciting. Plus his passion and desire for her were far more intriguing than the younger man's love for her that seemed rather ordinary in comparison, even if Tom really enjoyed their duet on the roof that ended in a kiss – something Tom really couldn't agree with. He would have much rather seen her in the arms of the phantom, and hoped things would still turn around in the story.

~*~

As the first act slowly played out before them, Jörg began to regret his decision of having taken the boy to this particular musical. He hadn't really thought about it at first, also because he didn't really know what this story was about, but now that he slowly began to understand the plot, he realized this may not have been the best choice.   
For the millionth time that evening, he glanced down at the boy next to him, but Tom didn't seem fazed by the tragic story that was approaching intermission. Hopefully his little knowledge of French hadn't allowed him to follow the story thoroughly, or allowed him to actually understand what was happening.

After the chandelier fell during the ballet scene, the curtain closed for intermission and everyone applauded, including the cheerful boy next to him who seemed either not to care or notice what they had just seen.   
Jörg wished the boy had understood well what was happening but was uncaring of it, though he feared it may be the other option, and that sooner or later he would understand and be rather disturbed by it.

As they slowly made their way out into the lobby with the rest of the audience, Jörg tried to come up with an excuse to leave, but nothing he could think of really made any sense. It was obvious that the boy was having a really good time, but how long would that last? Would the boy see the similarities between himself and the deformed, shunned phantom who had turned to a life of solitude, hiding in the shadows and killing all those who got in his way?   
' _Stop being so dramatic, Jörg. Tom isn't going to become like that,_ ' Jörg tried to calm himself down a bit and rolled his eyes at his own paranoia. He was being ridiculous; just because the boy had been rejected by the world didn't automatically mean he would turn into a crazy killer. ' _There are a lot of killers who are perfectly sane – there's no reason he couldn't just become one of those instead_ ,' Jörg gave himself an internal nod.

Unfortunately it didn't stop that annoying nagging in his stomach that he got every time he thought about the boy's future; what would become of him? Was he doomed to a lonely, miserable existence like the madman in the musical? Would he eventually turn like that? Was Jörg teaching him how to kill innocent people without getting caught?   
Maybe David had been right – maybe teaching his skills to someone so twisted was a dreadful idea, and sooner or later the boy would use them for a completely different purpose. Not that the purpose he used it for now was a noble one, but at least he didn't kill random people at a whim just because they turned away from him or something.

"Well this musical is really boring. Don't you want to go home?" Jörg yawned extensively, hoping the boy would be impressionable and go along with it.

"No," the kid shook his head; "I like it very much. I'd like to stay," he said with determination – something that was actually rather rare. Most of the time the kid went along with whatever Jörg wanted; ' _Great. He must really like it then. Ugh,'_ Jörg groaned internally as he ordered himself a scotch at the bar and some orange juice for the kid. This evening had turned into a total nightmare for him, and he wished he could just get drunk to forget about it.   
No wonder he had never wanted kids – they caused nothing but worries and trouble.

~*~

Tom gulped down his orange juice, wanting to go back inside because he was paranoid it would start without him even though the entire lobby was still filled with people.   
Luckily Weiss didn't take too long to finish his drink either, and soon they made their way back to their seats while Tom wondered what had gotten into the man; he seemed so annoyed all of a sudden. Was he not enjoying the evening? Something that was incomprehensible to Tom who couldn't remember ever having such a good time. Alright, so maybe a few times, but this was definitely one of his top five happy moments, which obviously couldn't be said for Weiss. Maybe he just didn't enjoy the theatre. But then again, what did Weiss ever really enjoy...? The man was really weird, after all.

Once the speakers asked everyone to take their seats again because it would continue soon, Tom had forgotten all about Weiss' mood, and was staring wide eyed at the curtains as the music picked up again to introduce them to a masked ball on the stage.

The second act turned out to be more dramatic than the first, and as Christine removed the phantom's mask, Tom caught a glimpse of his face for the first time and for a moment he thought he would pass out from shock. Up until that moment he hadn't really understood what had been going on in the story, but now everything slowly fell into place. Now he finally understood why Christine had chosen the other man instead of the phantom, and why the phantom wore that mask.

The play carried on, unaware of Tom's emotional rollercoaster that caused him to nearly run out of the theatre; he didn't like this musical anymore – he just wanted to go home.   
By the time the phantom threatened to kill Raoul least Christine marry him, Tom was about to be sick – especially because he actually understood why the phantom would do that, and because he wished Raoul would just die.   
But of course no such thing happened, and after a heartbreaking kiss, the phantom let the young lovers go, and soon after that the story ended with a standing ovation that Tom barely noticed he was part of.

Of course he was well aware that this was just a musical, but he was so touched by the phantom's sad fate that he couldn't really see it as nothing more than that. The masked man's feelings and despair reflected things he had often felt but had never been able to voice in any fashion; his fear of being seen, his loneliness and resentment towards a world that hated him for no reason other than for the way he looked.   
It was actually the first time Tom had ever seen or heard of anyone who looked remotely close to him, and even though it wasn't real, it had impacted him a lot stronger than he had thought possible.

"Let's get our coats," Weiss' quiet voice interrupted Tom's horrified thoughts, and he slowly followed the stream of people towards the checkroom where they had left their coats earlier.

Tom was more aware than ever of the people who sent him odd looks, and lowered his head more than usual, wishing he could be invisible. Maybe he should find some old dungeon underneath an opera where he could live in peace, without people whispering horrible things about him, thinking he couldn't hear them. He hated all of them so much.

~*~

Jörg wanted to kill himself for having let it get this far; why hadn't he tried harder to get the boy away from here? He should have just made up some ridiculous lie to go back home before the boy realized what was really happening and became as miserable as he was now. It had been a long time since he had seen the kid looking so despondent; the last time had been on their first visit to David where the boy thought he was being sold out to someone – how could he allow things to get this far? It was just a silly musical, but the worst one they could have picked. ' _Out of all the musicals in the world, it had to be The Phantom of the Opera_ ,' Jörg cursed himself and that damned boy for wanting to go to the theatre.

While they waited in line to get their coats, a few girls behind them caught Jörg's attention, and he prayed to heaven that the boy wasn't listening to their conversation about the play; "If I were Christine, I would totally have chosen the phantom because Raoul is so lame," one of the girls giggled and Jörg wanted to slap her.

"I know, me too! But that would have been so unrealistic because no one would pick him in reality. I mean come on, the guy was a total psycho who killed people and looked like... well like that!" The girls burst into another fit of laughter, and now Jörg wished he wouldn't have any sort of consciousness so he could just deliberately kill innocent people without feeling bad afterwards. How could they be so insensitive, especially after having watched something like that?   
Of course Jörg knew that they saw it as nothing but entertainment, but right now, for him, this was dead serious and he was at the brink of strangling them.

The girls kept on babbling for a few seconds during which Jörg got more and more impatient, wishing the guy would hurry up with their coats. The boy next to him was too short for Weiss to be able to look into his face that was lowered more than ever, but his rigid body and clenched fists indicated that he hadn't missed the loud girls behind them; of course not, no one had missed their loud ranting. Jörg was fuming and by the time he finally received their coats, he roughly pulled the boy's arm and dragged him out of the theatre; this had definitely turned into one of the worst evenings he had had in a while. Which was rather funny because nothing bad had actually happened to him.

"Are you hungry? Do you want to go get something to eat?" he offered the quiet kid, hoping to make him feel a bit better; food always cheered him up.

"I'm tired. I'd like to go home," the boy mumbled so quietly Jörg barely heard him over the street noise. Apparently this time food wasn't enough to distract him.

As calmly as possible, Jörg took a deep breath, and they headed to the metro station in total silence.   
This was exactly one of those moments that Jörg hated; he felt uncomfortable and inadequate, not knowing what to do or say to make the kid feel better. He'd never been good at comforting people, but with Tom it was even worse than usual because the boy was so twisted and repressed, and Jörg felt as if nothing he could do or say would change the situation; why was he so bad with people? Why couldn't he be more like David, who always knew what to say to make others feel at ease?   
This moment just served to remind him how little adequate he was to be a parent. Not that that was what he wanted to be for Tom, but... even so.

As they entered the metro line 6 and Jörg checked the plan to see which way was fastest to get home, his eyes fell on another stop that this metro made:  _Bir-Hakeim._ This might actually be able to cheer the boy up; he knew the view that this line offered as it approached the Bir-Hakeim station, and maybe the kid was up for a late stroll and a waffle, after all.

 


	25. Chapter 25

Unlike most metros in Paris, the line 6 mostly went above ground so Tom stared out the train window, lost in his earlier misery about the play and how he related to it. He had been so looking forward to going to the theatre, and now it had turned into the worst day of their trip so far. Of course he was being ridiculous by feeling this way, he knew that, but it was unavoidable at the moment. Watching that musical had been like a glimpse into his future where he would be alone, forgotten and rejected by the whole world. Just like the phantom was. 

All of Tom's bleak thoughts were chased from his mind as the metro suddenly took a gentle turn, giving him a full view of a brightly illuminated tower that he recognized immediately. It was unmistakably the Eiffel Tower - the one he'd been wanting to see ever since he found out it existed. 

Forgetting everything else around him, Tom glued his face to the metro window, bedazzled by the sparkling sight. He had no idea that the tower was illuminated like this; there had to be at ten thousand shining light bulbs on it. 

Sadly the tower disappeared from sight after an all too short while, and a moment later the speaker announced the next station of Bir-Hakeim. As the train slowed down at the station, Weiss pulled him towards the exit by his arm, and Tom followed in silent confusion; why were they getting out here? This stop wasn't close to their hotel, was it?

Excitement took over Tom's miserable thoughts as they got off the train and Weiss followed to sign with the tower on it, together with crowds of chatting tourists. Were they going to the tower...? Right now? 

Tom forgot all about his earlier dark thoughts as he tried to keep up with Weiss in the crowded metro station, but it was difficult because he kept being pushed around.

"Tom?" Weiss called a bit worried, looking around for him, obviously having lost him in the sea of people.

Quickly Tom battled his way towards him, giving him a slightly panicked look; why did there always have to be so many people in these places? Tom hated it.

Weiss nodded as he saw him and without any warning, grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the station. Tom's emotional turmoil just got worse, now having to battle misery from the play, excitement over the tower, and confusion/fear/something he couldn't quite name, due to the hand that pulled him forward. He had an unusual flashback from a situation like this when he'd been a young child; his mother holding his hand and pulling him along on a market of some kind. The memory was blurry and not one he'd thought of in a long time, but the sensation was similar - someone firmly holding him so he wouldn't get lost. It made him feel safe somehow, and he wished the man would never let go of him. 

However as soon as they were up on the street and the crowd thinned out a bit, Weiss released his hand and they walked side by side in silence. Tom stuffed his hand into the pocket of his hoody, not wanting the warm feeling to get lost so soon. Initially he'd been so scared of Weiss and had hated every time the man accidentally brushed against him, but lately he'd found those scarce touches to be somewhat pleasant; they reminded him of his time with his family where physical contact had been normal and something he had never paid much attention to. He'd taken it for granted and never thought that one day he would lose it and come to miss it so terribly. 

They turned various streets, and then suddenly there it was again, closer than ever - the Eiffel Tower. Tom was so busy staring at it that he nearly walked onto the busy street had it not been for Weiss grabbing his arm and pulling him back on the sidewalk. 

  
~*~

Jörg couldn't help but smile at the boy's large, happy eyes, all traces of sadness gone. The kid didn't seem to be paying attention to anything else anymore as they walked the few streets towards the tower - the boy bumping into anyone who didn't move out of his way, completely blinded by the shiny tower ahead of them.

Having been in Paris various times before, Jörg had seen the Eiffel tower on numerous occasions, but even the first time he'd been there he hadn't been all that fascinated by it; sure it was a nice tower and all, but not really as amazing as it seemed to be for the boy. Jörg really didn't get what the big deal was, but obviously coming here had been the right decision, not to mention the perfect evening since it was probably the only thing that could take the kid's mind off that damned play earlier that Jörg wished they had never watched.

As they finally arrived at the Champ de Mars, they followed to crowds of tourists towards the platform where the tower was located, where, despite the late hour, there were still countless people, though not as many as during the day.

The boy edged a bit closer to him again, not wanting to get lost in the crowds as he stared upwards at the giant tower over them. They were now underneath it where there was still a line at every elevator from people who wanted to get up; these lines was the reason he always tried to avoid the Eiffel Tower, but right now he had no choice since the boy probably wanted to go up. In case that was even still possible given the late hour; it was already past 11 and the last admittance was at midnight.

"Do you want to go up?" Jörg asked before getting in line, just to make sure the boy actually wanted to; there was a small chance he was alright with just staying down here, though it was rather minimal.

The boy nodded enthusiastically, squishing all of Jörg's hopes of not having to stand in line for an hour just to be told they weren't allowed up today anymore anyway. But of course he couldn't say no, so they stood in line together with all the other people who wanted to go up; maybe they should just take the stairs... ' _Hell no, way too lazy for that..._ ' Jörg mentally shook his head at the thought of the over 2500 steps between the ground and the top of the tower.

"Do you want to eat something while we wait?" Jörg offered as a waffle vendor approached them, selling waffles to random people in the line.

The kid looked around for the source of food and then nodded; this wasn't really the healthy dinner they should be having, but there was nothing else around and they hadn't eaten since... Well since dinner, but that had been a while ago. Jörg decided to take a waffle for himself as well, all the while cursing himself for caring so much about that damned kid.   
When had he turned into this? He was standing in line underneath the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the night, eating waffles with chocolate syrup, all just because some random boy, that wasn't even associated with him, was feeling bad because earlier he had taken him to watch a play Jörg wasn't at all interested in seeing just because he wanted him to be happy.   
And yet, if he could do things over, they would be exactly like this anyway, he concluded heavily as he watched the boy happily munching on his waffle, still staring around with wide eyes.

By now it was evident to Jörg that he harbored feelings for this boy that no grown up should ever have for a child, and he was slowly giving up trying to pretend it wasn't so. The kid had taken up every aspect of his life, weaseling into darkest corners of Jörg's mind and taking over his entire being; everything he did, every day, was in considering to the boy - while his own intentions, ideas and desires were left aside disregarded and forgotten.   
He had always been the egoistic type, whose own life had been the top priority, but lately more often than not, he ignored himself completely and only went along with what he thought would be best for Tom, who obviously didn't even notice or appreciate it.

It was just a few minutes before midnight that they managed to get on one of the last elevators for that day, and just a few minutes later they exited onto the platform of the second floor; it was a lot bigger than Jörg had imagined.

~*~

Tom immediately ran towards the railings, staring down at the ocean of light beneath them; it had to be one of the most amazing views he had ever seen. Heights really fascinated him and he suddenly had the silly urge to jump down, just to know what it would feel like to fly; every time he was somewhere very high up – which was barely ever – he wondered what it would be like to jump down from there.

Absently he noticed Weiss slowing following him, standing next to him with arms crossed and an empty expression on his face; somehow Tom had the feeling Weiss wasn't really enjoying this as much as he was. Did Weiss not like heights? Or towers? Maybe it was just his overall unhappiness that was showing again. Tom tried to shrug it off and focus on the incredible view, but that little nagging in the back of his mind wouldn't rest, telling him that Weiss didn't want to be here; was he only doing this for Tom...? Like the theatre tonight? The man hadn't looked all too thrilled there either, though he hadn't once complained.

"Excuse me?" A lady with British accent suddenly spoke to Weiss who looked a little taken aback. "Would you mind?" She held out her camera to Weiss, pointing at herself and the man next to her – presumably her husband.

"Oh, sure," Weiss nodded, taking the camera and waiting for them to pose.

Tom watched as Weiss took two or three pictures of the elderly couple; he had never understood why people wanted their pictures taken. He hated it and made sure to always stay out of them, only photographing inanimate objects.

"Thank you very much," She beamed cheerfully when Weiss gave her back the camera. "Shall I take one of you and your son?" She offered with a smile at Tom who just stared with wide eyes. By now he knew that everyone thought Weiss was his father, of course, but it was still weird hearing someone saying it.

Before Tom had the chance to run away, or jump off the tower, or whatever, the woman continued merrily; "Yes yes, now stand together right there!" She said enthusiastically as she took the camera from Weiss and gave him a gentle shove towards Tom whose feet were rooted to the iron tower. "That looks lovely!" She said brightly, taking various pictures.

Tom blinked into the bright flash a few times, but before he had analyzed the situation it was already over and the woman handed Weiss the camera back, waved goodbye and disappeared in the direction of the elevators with her husband.

Awkwardly Tom glanced up at the man beside him who was placing the camera back around his neck, but there was no emotion on his face that would indicate what he was thinking.

"Well this is getting boring," Weiss shrugged after he was done arranging the camera; "Shall we go further up?"

Tom looked up at the tower; there was still another floor above them and he really wanted to go, so he nodded enthusiastically.

They walked towards the four orange elevators in the middle of the tower, and actually managed to take the last one going up today. The glass elevators showed an even more amazing view than the platform on the second floor had, and Tom pressed his nose against the glass to stare out in fascination.

As they exited the elevator, Tom suddenly felt dizzy and instinctively grabbed Weiss' arm; he felt as if the entire world would be moving but he was standing still; it was worse than being inside the elevator.

"Are you alright?" Weiss gave him a concerned look, steading him with a hand on his shoulder.

"I think I'm going to faint," Tom mumbled quietly, feeling terrified all of a sudden. What was happening to him?

Weiss guided him towards one of the benches that stood right next to the elevator where he sat down, but the horrible swaying feeling was still there.

"What's wrong?" Weiss asked concerned, sitting beside him and holding his shoulders.

"I don't know," Tom whimpered in fear, feeling as if he were about to throw up. "The ground feels like it's moving."

"Oh," Weiss smiled in relief, releasing his grip a bit; "It is. Don't worry, that's not you. We're about 980 feet up and since this tower is very thin, it sways a lot. It gives you the feeling that you're not standing on firm ground." He reassured him with one of those rare, gentle smiles. "It sways around 20 feet in the wind - that can cause a lot of people to get dizzy or feel sick."

"Oh," Tom said stupidly, suddenly feeling a lot better now that he knew he hadn't been poisoned and was dying or something.

A moment later he stood up again and Weiss fully released his shoulder; why had he felt comfortable under that touch...?

They walked towards the windy edge of the much smaller platform, and Tom took a few deep breaths to chase away the nausea as he gazed down at the city that was so far away he couldn't recognize anything other than a million bright lights. Now that he knew what the moving ground meant, it was actually somewhat pleasant; it was a gentle rocking that gave him the feeling of being detached from the world and all the horrors it held.

"Thanks for taking me here tonight," he mumbled quietly, not looking over at the man beside him; he knew that Weiss would have never come here on his own and was only doing this because he had realized how terrible he felt after the play. There was something comforting in knowing that Weiss knew how he felt without him having to say anything about it. And it was even more comforting to know that he cared enough to take him up here to make him feel better.

"Any time."

 

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

The rest of their week in Paris passed quite pleasantly compared to the beginning, and after 7 days and about 3000 pictures, they found themselves back at the airport Charles de Gaulle to board the plane home.

The week had passed incredibly fast and Tom really didn't want to go home because he knew their old life was waiting for them; despite their life being great, he had really enjoyed the relaxed, pleasant time with Weiss. He was like a completely different person - a very nice person. They had gone to all sorts of museums, restaurants, markets, and random little stores that sold completely useless but interesting things. Tom was particularly fond of antiquity stores and had bought a few souvenirs there, including some things for Natalie and David. Bill was getting a frog plushie that he could gnaw on.

After the usual security check, they boarded the plane where Tom was sitting at the window again and watched the world getting smaller again as they took off.

"Hey I wanted to talk to you about something," Weiss said quietly once the plane was back in an upright position and the seatbelt signs had been turned off. 

For an inexplicable reason, those words made Tom really nervous. "What?" he asked awkwardly.

"High school. You're 14 now so high school would be the most common option, however you don't actually have to go if you don't want to," Weiss turned to his side a bit to look at him. 

Tom had read all about high school and was dreading it; he'd seen movies and read stories of outcasts and rejects, and knew very well that he would be one of those as soon as he entered that building.

"I spoke to Natalie about it already a while ago," Weiss continued; "She found a home education program that may be more suitable for our situation than a high school since a school requires regular attendance and that's not really something you can do given the job you have. Natalie would be willing to continue learning with you, and we thought of enrolling you in the National Extension College in Cambridge. They offer an entire school program including GCSEs and A levels, so you could go to university once you finish with the exams that are held each year in Cambridge. Of course for those you'd have to fly to England each year, but I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem." 

While Weiss spoke, Tom found himself smiling more with every sentence; he'd been so scared of the whole school going thing, and now Weiss was offering him a way out of it? With exams in another country?

"Isn't that very expensive?"

"It's fine." Weiss shrugged. "You can take a look at their webpage when we get home. They offer all relevant courses: math, chemistry, biology, physics, literature, history, etc. so you can do a complete educational basis with them." 

"And I would never have to go to school?" Tom asked almost scared to hear the answer.

"No, you wouldn't. The A levels from the NEC are recognized just like any other, and would allow you to attend university - both within the USA and abroad," the man confirmed with a nod.

"I want to do that," Tom said immediately, being utterly relieved that he didn't have to go to high school.

"I'll tell Natalie then."

 

~*~

Jörg was relieved the boy was alright with continuing his home education rather than going to a school filled with kids who would taunt him to death. After all, there was also a possibility that Tom thought he would find friends there or something - which would never happen of course, but kids were sometimes stupid enough to be optimistic, so it was good he didn't have to tell him the harsh truth; obviously he already knew it.

Of course he was well aware that the kid's education until he was 18 would cost half a fortune with this college, but it's not like Tom spent a lot of unnecessary money so it was a good investment. Jörg had actually intended to invest that money for his own retirement but Tom needed it more now; he'd come up with something else for when he was too old to work in this field. Besides, it wasn't as if money would be tight anyway so they could afford it.

 

~*~  
  
It was almost 20 hours later that they finally pulled into the driveway of the White Ranch, and Bill the dog ran in front of their car until they parked in front of the house. It was only by now that Tom realized how much he had missed his friend; every time they went away for a few days, Bill was super excited when they came back and ran along with their car from the entrance of the ranch all the way to the house.   
As Tom got out of the car, Bill was already jumping up and down in excitement, making whiney howling noises and wagging his tail so much that his entire body moved with it.

It took Tom and Bill nearly five minutes to greet each other, during which Weiss was already unpacking all their bags and carrying their stuff into the house from which Natalie had come out to greet them and help Weiss with their things. Whenever they went away, Natalie stayed on the ranch to look after the horses and Bill, at which point Natalie's children stayed with her sister who lived right next to her. Tom had never actually met any of her kids, but he knew that Bill, Weiss' son, still believed him to be Christopher, Natalie's oldest son.

After Bill the dog had calmed down a bit, he and Tom also went into the house, and Bill now turned to Weiss for a few pets; the man gave him a slightly displeased look, the way he always did when Bill was excited, but then patted him on the head a few times before carrying his bag up to his room. 

"How was Paris?" Natalie asked excitedly, giving him a big hug. 

"Good," Tom nodded with a smile, awkwardly returning the hug a little bit; he still hadn't fully gotten used to the hugging thing that Natalie did sometimes, but he was getting more used it with every passing month. 

"Did you guys have fun? Did you go up on the Eiffel Tower? Did you eat frogs?!" She laughed.

"We did do all of those, yes. I just tried a little bit of the frog... It was really gross, but Weiss ate them," he said with a sour face while Natalie just laughed harder. 

"Well I hope you guys are hungry for some normal food because I just made some late lunch... Though you can also have it for dinner, whatever." She shrugged with a bright smile. 

"I'm hungry," Tom nodded.

"Great. Why don't you go put your stuff away, get Jörg, and I'll warm you guys some food?" She suggested, already halfway to the kitchen. 

With a quiet nod, Tom carried his bag up the stairs to his room, followed by Bill who was still quite excited about his return, and began unpacking his things; he was mostly looking for the souvenir he had gotten for Natalie. It was a key rack with all of Paris' most famous buildings on it, because Natalie always complained she had so many keys to look after and didn't know where to put them all.   
  
  
After an early dinner that ended at 5:30 in the evening, Tom bid goodbye to Natalie who returned home with her key rack - over which she had been delighted - and Tom returned to his room to finish putting away his things before he snuck downstairs to the computer in the living room to take a look at the web page Weiss had told him about. 

Each course he'd be doing cost around $400 plus postage fees - he needed about 5 or 6 courses per semester, plus the expense for the time he'd be spending in Cambridge to do he exams each semester; in other words, this cost Weiss a fortune. Going to a regular high school wouldn't even cost a fraction. Did Weiss really care so much about his emotional health that he was willing to pay so much more just to spare Tom the horror of having to attend a public school?

The thought that the man was willing to spend so much on his wellbeing was almost unbelievable, and one of those things that made him feel cared for; Weiss was the only person who ever spent money on him, and not little at that, so even though the man was usually snarky and nasty, Tom believed he cared about him more than he let others know. Which was a real shame, because if he wouldn't be so nasty all the time, Tom would really like him. He wished Weiss would be more like he had been in those few days in Paris - they were almost friends there. Maybe someday Weiss would warm up a little more to him and they would be friends...

"And?" Weiss asked as he came down into the living room and looked over Tom's shoulder at the screen that still showed the NEC website. 

"It's really expensive," Tom muttered sadly.

"But it will only teach you things you might actually need some day, all the while giving you time to focus on the more important things in life." Weiss nodded firmly.

 _'Like killing people,_ ' Tom thought warily but said nothing; Weiss had a point, and he really didn't want to go to a regular school anyway so he really had no reason whatsoever to complain.

"It would be great," he said quietly, somehow wanting to tell Weiss that he really appreciated it, but not knowing how. Thanking the man was difficult for him because somehow he never managed to finds words which did his feelings justice. He appreciated so much that the man had done for him, but didn't know how to express it without it being weird or dumb.

Weiss just nodded, retreating into the kitchen from which he emerged just a few minutes later with a bowl of grapes, and disappeared back upstairs for the night.

Tom also decided to call it a day and, after brushing his teeth, locked himself in his room, fully knowing that Weiss could pick the lock any day so there really was no point to it, but it still made him feel safe. The mere fact that he had a lock was still somewhat of a luxury to him, and since he already had it, he wanted to use it too.

Bill the dog lay in his basket next to Tom's bed, just the way he always did, and he patted the dog a bit before crawling fully under the covers and switching off the light, fully knowing that sleep was far away despite his exhaustion.   
  
The week in Paris had gone by so fast, his mind hadn't even had time to process it all. But from all the exciting, amazing things that had happened to him, the trip to the theatre was what remained with him the most; he'd thought about it every day since then, and even though it was actually a terrible memory, there was something soothing in it that he hadn't been able to name. Despite it having been the worst experience ever since he moved to America, it was something that made him happy but he didn't know why.

Sleepily, he mulled the night over and over in his mind, trying to remember every detail. The colors and sounds from the play; how he'd loved it at first but then slowly began to hate it once he realized what was happening; how terrible he'd felt at the end of it; how he'd come to feel better again.

And that's when he suddenly realized the giant difference between the phantom and himself: Weiss. Tom had Weiss. Unlike the phantom, Tom had someone who cared if he was feeling bad – who took him to the Eiffel Tower and bought him waffles, and didn't force him to go to high school. Someone who would always be there for him and whom he could always count on.   
Weiss was for Tom what Christine had never been for the phantom.

 


	27. Chapter 27

As another winter slowly rolled around, the course papers from NEC finally arrived at the beginning of November, and Natalie began working through them with him.

The days were similar to before, except Tom now had better materials to work with and a more ordered course. His mornings still passed as ever, with training followed by time outside with the horses, and then Natalie still came over regularly in the afternoons.

Every other month or so, Weiss would have an assignment to which they went, and just like before, Natalie would ask why Tom had to go with Weiss on his truck routes. She insisted it were better for Tom to stay at home to catch up on his education, but Weiss insisted it were good for Tom because he got to travel a bit, and in Weiss' opinion travel was the best way of education.   
Of course Tom knew the trips had nothing to with education, at least not with... that sort of education, but he never said anything.

The more Tom learned about the world and how much it had to offer, the more he disliked his job. Not because it was difficult, or even because it was unethical, but simply because it was tedious. It was countless hours of waiting around in the cold just so the target could change their mind and not show up, giving them another 2 days of waiting. It was endless traveling across the entire country – by car because they couldn't fly with all their weapons – and staying in cheap roadside motels with really uncomfortable beds and bad food.

Tom had gotten so spoiled by their life at home that he would much rather just stay here. But of course he couldn't tell Weiss that because he owed the man a larger sum of money than he was able to understand, even if Weiss had never said anything about it. It was their original agreement that Tom would work for his living, but so far he was certain that his living expense was a lot higher than the little bit of work he did for Weiss. Especially now with the new school. Tom had no idea how he should ever pay him back – at this rate he would be working for the man forever.   
Was that a bad or good thing? Did he want to stay with Weiss forever?

While Tom slowly munched on his dinner, he observed the man across the table who was reading something in one of his files. Weiss was the only person Tom had in the world – if he didn't stay with him, what would he do? Where would he go? Who would want him?   
Staying with him was probably the only option he had.

When Weiss put the papers aside, Tom looked back down at his dinner so the man wouldn't catch him staring, but soon looked up again as Weiss addressed him.

"Our next assignment is in Germany. We'll be spending the holidays there."

Tom knew that they wouldn't actually be working on Christmas and Weiss was just combining the assignment with a journey to visit his family, but of course didn't say anything and just nodded. Since Weiss didn't mention his family, it was obvious Tom wasn't going to be meeting them. His thoughts immediately returned to the cheerful boy he only knew over the phone, and began irrationally fantasizing about meeting him in Germany. Of course he knew that wouldn't happen, but he still couldn't stop wondering 'what if'.

"But Mister Weiss!" Natalie complained loudly once Weiss told her that they wouldn't be spending Christmas at home. "What about Tom? You're working on Christmas? That's terrible! And you're taking him with you? Where are you going anyway? Who works on Christmas?!"

Weiss sighed, running a hand over his face. "It's work, Natalie. We're going anyway, regardless of what you have to say about it," he grumbled darkly, stalking up the stairs.

Natalie glared after him, sticking her tongue out and flipping him off once he was halfway up the stairs.

"I saw that," Weiss said drily before disappearing.

"He totally didn't see that, right?" Natalie whispered to Tom who was standing awkwardly in the kitchen door. Tom didn't have an answer, and was almost sure the question was rhetorical, so he didn't say anything.

"Oh well," Natalie sighed. "That really sucks, doesn't it? Maybe I should talk to him again and see if he lets you stay?"

"No," Tom immediately shook his head, "I'd like to go."

"You would? You want to be driving around a clammy, smelly truck on Christmas?" She asked dubiously.

"It's fine. I don't mind." Tom insisted; he probably would mind the clammy, smelly truck, but since that wasn't actually what they would be doing, it was fine. What would they be doing on Christmas anyway? There probably wouldn't be a tree or anything... Weiss would probably be with his family, and Tom... Tom would be somewhere else, alone. Maybe Natalie was right and staying here would be better... But what if he did get to meet Bill after all? That was so worth spending Christmas alone – he'd always spent Christmas alone until he met Weiss anyway so it really didn't matter much.

"He's not actually a truck driver, right?" Natalie suddenly asked, startling Tom a bit.

"What?" He asked stupidly, not wanting to have this conversation.

"Well I mean... He owns a giant ranch, has a ton of money that he uses for god knows which things... Works completely randomly and extremely little... Never tells me where he goes. And I've never seen him within 50 feet of a truck," she said suspiciously.

"Oh." Tom said slowly, debating what he should and shouldn't say.

"So what do you guys do while you're out 'driving trucks'?" Natalie carried on casually as she strolled into the kitchen. Earlier she had actually planned to leave for the day, but obviously changed her mind.

"Um. We're working," Tom mumbled sheepishly.

"On what?" she carried on in her casual tone that was probably designed to lure the truth out of him.

"I don't know," Tom sighed, not knowing what to say; he didn't want to lie to Natalie, but knew he couldn't tell her the truth.

"It's something illegal, isn't it?" Natalie asked quietly, sticking her head into the fridge.

Tom remained silent. He knew, of course, that what they did was illegal, but he didn't want to get Natalie involved in it.

"It's ok," she finally shrugged with a smile, coming back out of the fridge and closing it. "I know that Jörg is actually a nice guy... He freaks me out a bit sometimes because he never speaks about anything, but generally he seems really nice. Isn't he?" She added a second later.

Tom nodded. "He is." Despite being a mercenary, whose loyalties were only as high as his paycheck, Weiss was a nice man that Tom had come to trust and possibly even care for a little bit.

"Then I guess that's all that really matters, right?" She smiled warmly. "Just make sure you don't get involved in anything too risky, ok?"

Again, Tom nodded, well knowing it was far too late for that. Things didn't get any more illegal or riskier than what he was doing already, so it really didn't matter anymore.

"I'm serious, Tom," she said quietly, standing in front of him and placing her arms on his shoulders. "There are many legal ways to earn money too. Maybe not as easy or as much as Weiss may have, but..." slowly she trailed off, apparently unsure what she was trying to say.

"What I mean is that we're in America, and you don't have to do something criminal," she said firmly.

"What should I do?" Tom asked bluntly. He'd never really talked to anyone about this before, and always just assumed that this was what his life would always be like because... well because that's how it was. Did he have another alternative?

"Anything you want. I don't know much about you, or where you come from, or what happened to you or whatever, but I do know that whatever Weiss does, is not the only way to make it in the world. You're such a smart guy, Tom, and you have your entire life ahead of you. Weiss is providing you with so much stuff that you can use... You have the chance for a great education and a bright future... What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't do something now that might jeopardize all that." Natalie finished her serious rant with a firm nod.

Tom assumed that with 'jeopardize' Natalie meant 'land in jail' or something. "I won't," he said firmly. 

"Well good. And don't forget that I'm always here for you if you need me." She pulled him into one of her random hugs, though this one was a bit tighter and longer than usual, so Tom assumed it was more meaningful, and warily returned it.

He really appreciated Natalie's words, though he wasn't sure she would still mean them if she knew the truth of what he and Weiss really did for a living. Though not having seen it at first, Tom was now more than aware of what being a hitman really meant in the society they lived in, and that it wasn't something he was allowed to ever tell anyone. Not even Natalie.   
The only one he could ever confide in was Bill. And that was only because Bill wasn't able to understand anything he said anyway.

It was 5 days before Christmas when Tom first set foot on German ground as he exited the airplane. It was snowing heavily, and freezing cold, but he was still really excited, simply because he was in the same country as Bill. The boy, not the dog.

"I'm going to get us a car. Stay here with the luggage until I come get you," Weiss instructed once they had retrieved their luggage and passed through security.

While Weiss rented a car for them, Tom waited by the exit towards the parking lots, inside the building so he wouldn't freeze until Weiss returned with their car. They would be driving nearly two hours to a small place named Zielitz where they would be staying for the week. It was close to a city named Magdeburg, where they had an assignment of some kind – Weiss hadn't talked about it, which was somewhat odd and made Tom believe that maybe there was no assignment whatsoever; but if there wasn't, why was he here...? It was obvious that Weiss was here to visit his family for the holidays, but why had he brought Tom along?

It wasn't long before Weiss returned, and they began the long, snowy drive to Zielitz that took them nearly 3 hours. The weather was terrible and the roads so heavily covered with snow that by the time they got off the highway, it was nearly impossible to drive at a semi-normal speed.

By the time they arrived in the small, somewhat rundown hotel in Zielitz it was already dark, despite only being around 5 in the evening, and Tom was so tired he had almost fallen asleep in the car.

The woman at the reception, if it could be called like that, gave them the keys to their separate rooms, and Tom dragged himself up the stairs together with his luggage. These long flights always exhausted him to no end because he found it impossible to sleep on the plane, and he couldn't wait to fall into bed and pass out.

"Do you still want to eat something?" Weiss asked him as he unlocked the room that was right next to Tom's.

Even though he was a bit hungry, Tom shook his head; he was tired and cold and just wanted to sleep. 

"Alright, I'm going out for some dinner. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Tom nodded again, pushing his bag into the room and then locking the door. The room was pretty bare and by far not the nicest place he'd been at, but apparently it was the only hotel in this area so it had to do. And it's not as if Tom really cared – he just wanted to sleep.

After quickly brushing his teeth, Tom crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to his ears to keep himself from freezing; the heating had just been turned on so the room and bed were very cold, and he pulled his feet up close to his body to keep himself from shivering too badly.

The only thing that really comforted him in his hungry, tired and cold state, was staring up at the dark night sky that was decorated with heavy snowfall; somewhere out there was Weiss' son - sharing the same dreary sky with him.

 


	28. Chapter 28

With a tired groan, Jörg rolled over and looked at the alarm he had placed on the nightstand. It was already 7:22am, but still very dark outside, so he contemplated whether he should really get up or just sleep for another hour or two.   
He was dead exhausted because he’d slept terrible, thanks to the awful mattress that left his entire body aching. Sometimes he really hated traveling. Unfortunately this was one of the only hotels around this area so they didn’t have a lot of option. Why had Simone moved to this dreadful place anyway? It was in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes he really pitied his son who had to grow up here.

After not finding any rest for another 10 to 20 minutes, Jörg eventually decided to get up. It hadn’t gotten a lot warmer over the night, so the temperature in his room was still far below his comfort level, which lead to him skipping his morning shower. Being clean just wasn’t worth freezing.

Reluctantly and moody, he stalked down to the small breakfast room that hosted a few other guests, mostly backpackers and the sort. Jörg had been in this hotel before, and knew how crappy the breakfast was; why did he even come here…? Oh right, because it was less than two miles from where Simone lived.   
She had asked him over for lunch today, where he intended to tell her about Tom, and if that went well, perhaps he could take the boy over to meet them. Of course all that had ulterior motives too: Jörg was worried what would become of Tom should he himself die, or worse – land in jail. Perhaps he could explain to Simone that the boy had nowhere to go and should something happen, she would look after him - at least until he was of age.

Of course he had absolutely no idea how he would explain to her and Gordon how he had come to care for this boy, or why he was keeping him, but Simone and Gordon were good people that he could trust, and really the only ones he could turn to with this. That, and Tom’s birth certificate stated Simone as his mother, so maybe he should do something about that.

  
After a not very good breakfast, Jörg complained about the heating in his room to the owner, and then returned back upstairs to see if the kid was already awake.

“Tom?” He asked quietly as he knocked on the door that opened a second later.

Unlike Jörg, the boy looked perfectly rested and appeared to be in a bright mood. Which really was no wonder because that kid could sleep anywhere, including on the floor.

“The breakfast here is terrible, so if you want you can go out and buy something. There’s a small store just a block from here. I have to go do a few things today, but if you want you can explore the town a bit. But be warned: there’s absolutely nothing there.” Jörg informed the boy who looked quite ready to go exploring, before he retreating back into his room to get some paper work done before he went to see Simone.

~*~

After Weiss had gone back to his room, Tom grabbed his jacket, put on his boots and stalked downstairs to finally go outside. It had stopped snowing during the night so it was a bright, sunny morning that displayed the large amounts of snow from last night. The sidewalks were still being cleaned so some were still so full of snow that the people walked on the side of the road instead; Tom didn’t mind the snow at all and stalked through it even though it reached above his knees. He was in a really good mood today and just wanted to go out exploring, after all it didn’t happen often that he had absolutely nothing to do – except study, but who wanted to do that while being in Germany – so he strolled up and down small streets that all seemed to lead to suburban areas. Generally this place didn’t contain a lot other than a small store where Tom bought himself a cheese sandwich and a banana. The town was almost deader than the one close to their home in Colorado, except there was no beautiful landscape around it, no place to go horseback riding and no shooting range of any kind. It was all just suburbs. Tom hoped he never had to live in a place like this.

  
By lunch time, Tom had seen pretty much everything the small town had to offer – and received countless evil looks from people who probably thought he should be in school somewhere – and now found himself actually standing across the street from the local school. He had never before seen a school so close up – it was amazingly unspectacular.

It was a large, square, boring building with a large, concrete yard that was surrounded by a fence. It looked a bit like a small prison, except that there were no bars at the windows and the doors were open. Once again Tom was delighted he could study at home and didn’t have to spend most of his day in a place like this.

Curious to see what it might be like close up, Tom walked across the street, but just as he was about to enter the school grounds, a loud ringing emerged from the building and Tom ran back across the street; did that place seriously have an alarm of some kind?!

However just a few moments later countless students swarmed out of the building, spreading in all directions through the white snow. Apparently the bell had only signaled the end of the school, not the fact that Tom had entered the grounds…

Not wanting to get involved or be seen, he backed away into an alley, watching from the distance as the noisy children ran around, laughing and throwing snowballs at each other. Maybe this was one of the positive sides of school that he would never come to know.  
Watching all the children reminded him again that he had no friends whatsoever, and led the life of a grown-up; he had no time to play or fool around because his entire day was scheduled from the early morning until the evening. That, and of course because he had no one who wanted to play with him anyway.

The crowds of students slowly thinned out until there were only a few ones left, standing around in small groups in the yard or on the street. Once there were barely any around, and none that seemed to be paying attention to him, Tom pulled his hoody further over his head and then bravely stalked into the school yard. Somewhere on the right there were a few older students smoking, but none paid attention to him so he managed to enter the school building without issues. Would someone know he wasn’t from here? But there were so many students - for all anyone knew he could just be one of them, right?

Cautiously he crept through the empty school halls, looking at the random, colorful pictures on the walls. At one point he encountered what he assumed must be a teacher, but the woman paid no attention to him as she hurried down the corridor.   
Tom had mixed feelings about this school issue: on one hand it seemed very cold and hostile, and on the other all the kids seemed very happy. Though maybe they had just been happy because they were finally able to go home…

After walking up the stairs to the next floor, quiet music could be heard from somewhere. Tom paused to listen before following the tune down another hall and around a corner until he was standing in front of a closed door from which the sound was coming. It was pretty loud, given the silence of the rest of the building, and echoed softly through the empty corridors.

If he wasn’t mistaken, the music was being played live, and Tom listened in delight, suddenly wishing he could attend this school too. He had no idea that schools had music classes.

The song from inside the room stopped and then someone spoke but it was too quiet for Tom to understand. Just a few moments later, however, the same song picked up again; obviously someone was rehearsing. Tom could make out the familiar sound of a guitar and drums, and some other insturment he couldn’t name, but it sounded great together.

And then someone began to sing. It was German and Tom wasn’t able to understand a single word, but it was sung by a very distinguishable voice that sounded somewhat familiar though he couldn’t place it right now.   
Fascinated, Tom stood in front of the door, wishing he could see inside to know who was playing – and most of all who was singing.   
If he would attend a school, would he also be able to play with someone like that? Probably not… Kids were scared of him and avoided him at all costs.

The thought made him aware that if the kids inside that room were to come out, they would feel the same way about him; just because they could play so lovely, didn’t mean they would want to do it with him around.

A bit crestfallen, he listened to the music session for another while before the playing ultimately stopped, and soon enough someone approached the door.  
Horrified, Tom ran back down the hall just as the door opened behind him. Taking various steps at a time, he jumped down the stairs to the main floor, and then hid behind a row of lockers as four noisy kids came down the stairs. They were laughing and chattering in German; one of the voices belonged to the singer – it was easy to make out among the others because it was louder. Where did he know that voice from...?

From his hiding spot it was hard to see what was happening, but 3 of the students went towards the exit of the building while one turned into the corridor that Tom was hiding in; he ducked behind the lockers, hoping the boy would walk past without noticing him, but apparently the boy was only looking for something inside his locker which was in the row that Tom was hiding behind. He heard the boy opening his locker and rummaging through it.

Carefully he peeked around the corner to take a look at him, but he couldn’t see much because most of him was covered by the locker door, number 483. The boy was wearing very… exotic looking clothes that were completely different than what Tom had seen on other children so far.

Without any warning, the boy suddenly slammed the locker door and Tom stood paralyzed both from shock and awe. The boy – or was it a girl?! – had crazy, spiked up, black hair and the most mesmerizing eyes he had ever seen. That had to be a girl. She was wearing make-up. But... she looked like a…No. ‘ _What?!’_ Tom was unable to form a single coherent thought as his heart skipped a few beats and he nearly passed out.

The boy didn’t seem to have noticed him because he was busy stuffing things into his bag, and a moment later walked down the hall in the same direction his friends had gone in.

Still unable to move, Tom stared after the bizarre boy, trying to remind his body to continue breathing before he fainted from lack of oxygen. ‘ _What the hell was that?!’_ Tom asked himself in disbelief.

Never before had anything made him feel this way. It was as if his heart were about to explode, but in a positive sense. Usually when he was worked up about something it was due to fear – not something as exorbitantly amazing as this feeling right now. He had no name for it and had no idea what was happening to him, but he really wanted to see that boy – or girl – again. What gender she/he had was completely irrelevant at the moment, Tom just wanted to see them again.   
He wanted to feel like this forever and never do anything other than gaze into those entrancing eyes that made him feel unlike anything he ever thought he could feel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

Jörg growled internally at himself for being such a coward; it was already way past lunch and he still hadn't brought the whole Tom topic up. The moment just hadn't been right. Of course he should have made it the right moment, but somehow he was still hesitating.

Gordon was currently talking about something related to his music when suddenly a loud 'I'm home' could be heard. It was unmistakably Bill.

"We're in the kitchen, Bill! And take your shoes off!" Simone called as she went into the hall to make sure Bill didn't trample through the entire house with his muddy boots.

"Is dad here yet?!" Bill asked excitedly.

"The shoes, Bill!" Simone yelled in exasperation, but it was too late and a moment later he burst through the door, muddy shoes and all.

"Dad!" He yelled happily, pouncing on Jörg who nearly fell off his chair as the 14 year old landed in his arms. It had been years since they had seen each other and Bill had grown a lot.

"Bill," Jörg smiled warmly, giving his son a tight hug. Even though he generally didn't miss him while he wasn't around, he did actually like the quirky kid; he was a bit odd and looked... even more odd than last time Jörg had seen him, but overall he was a pretty smart, nice kid and Jörg was quite proud of him.

"When did you get here? We weren't sure if you were really coming. How long are you staying? Where are you living? Are you staying here with us? Are you going to spend Christmas with us? Did you bring your girlfriend? And her son Christopher? Have they ever been to Germany before? Are you going to get married?! Does that mean I'm going to have a new br-"

"Bill, that's enough!" Simone said loudly, pulling Bill off of Jörg. "Take your shoes off and clean the floor!" She ordered sternly.

"But-!" Bill protested.

"Right now, Bill! Shoes!" Simone ordered and pointed at the kitchen door.

Bill hung his head and slouched out of the kitchen to take his shoes off.

Jörg chuckled quietly; "Always so strict," he grinned at her.

Simone sighed heavily; "I swear he's reaching 'that age'. It's driving me crazy."

"Does that have anything to do with his very interesting looks?" Jörg laughed quietly.

"I'm hoping that's a phase..." she made a sour face.

" _It's not a phase_." Gordon mouthed at Jörg over Simone's head that she was resting in her hands for a moment.

Jörg just laughed again; he didn't really care what clothes his son wore – it's not like he had to deal with him anyway. But he had to think of Tom again who was so very different from Bill.

"So Jörg," Gordon elbowed him with a smirk; "Are you getting married any time soon?"

Jörg rolled his eyes; "No, why, are you?"

Simone laughed; "Yeah Gordon, are you?" she grinned.

"We're talking about Jörg!" Gordon defended, earning a few laughs from the other two.

"Yeah but seriously," Simone turned back to look at him; "What's going on between you and Natalie? Who is that anyway?"

"Nothing!" Jörg rolled his eyes again; "She works for me. There's nothing going on between us – that's just Bill's overactive imagination."

"Works for you? As what?" Gordon raised an eyebrow.

This was the perfect moment to bring Tom up.

"She's my maid. She cleans, cooks and takes care of the house while I'm away, that's all." Why hadn't he brought Tom up?!

"Is she hot?" Simone grinned slyly.

"She's got 3 kids," Jörg rolled his eyes.

"So? You think women with kids can't be hot?!" Simone smacked him over the head while Gordon sniggered.

"Ow, that's not what I meant!" Jörg scowled and rubbed the back of his head. "I meant... you know how I feel about kids. I would never date a woman with children." Of course he should have known that that just got him another slap.

"You lack some serious social skills, my friend," Gordon chuckled as he began to clean up the mess that Bill had left in the kitchen; Jörg just rolled his eyes with a small smile.

"Unless you've undergone some serious changes, I'd say you wouldn't actually date anyone, with or without children, eh?" Simone teased.

"What is that supposed to mean? I'm perfectly capable of having a relationship." Jörg huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Really?" Simone asked suspiciously while she helped Gordon with the cleaning. "Does that mean there's someone special in your life?! Tell us everything!" She demanded, gesticulating around with the mop.

Someone special? The only special person in Jörg's life was Tom – this was definitely not the right moment to bring him up. No moment in time was good to bring something like that up because he was irrevocably in love with a 14 year old boy... The same age as his own son...

"Jörg!" Simone poked him, pulling him out of his reverie.

"What?" Jörg asked stupidly not having been paying attention at all.

"Oh my!" Simone said in delight; "So there is someone! Who is it?" she grinned.

"I'm all clean!" Bill announced in that moment as he pranced into the kitchen, wearing green fluffy slippers with dinosaur claws.

"So dad!" Bill began again and Simone sighed.

  


Aimlessly, Tom wandered around Zielitz, completely lost in fantasies about the beautiful boy he had seen earlier. He had decided to call it a  _he_  because it just made more sense. Even though it looked more like a she. But it being a he made him feel more comfortable for some inexplicable reason.

Once the cold got too extreme, he returned to his room in the small hotel, that had finally become warm, and sat down with his books – he couldn't concentrate on them at all, but he wanted to try anyway. Of course his thoughts just kept running back to that boy who had turned his usually calm, reasonable mind into a jumbled mess of irrational fantasies, keeping him from doing anything productive.

Maybe he should write it down. Perhaps writing his feelings down would help him sort through it. It's not like Tom didn't know what he was dealing with here – he knew he was madly in love with that guy, he just didn't know what to do about it. What did people do when they were in love? Write their beloved ones a letter?   
Tom really wanted to write a letter. He wanted to tell the boy how he felt about him because if he didn't, he thought he would go crazy.

And so he began to write. At first it was nothing particular, just words and simple phrases, but eventually the letter began to take shape and make sense.

It was a few hours and at least 150 crumpled papers later, when Tom was finally finished. It wasn't very long and really didn't do his feelings any justice, but it was as good as he managed to make it. Now all he had to do was give it to him. But how?

A quiet knock distracted him from his scheming, and he hopped up to open the door.

"I brought you some dinner." Weiss lifted a bag.

"Thank you," Tom beamed up at him.

~*~

Jörg raised an eyebrow at the cheerful boy; what had gotten into him? Tom never smiled without a reason – half the time he didn't even smile  _with_  a reason.

For a few seconds Jörg just stood there, holding the food and staring at the boy's bright smile. He hadn't told Simone about him yet. Somehow he thought if he told anyone, Tom wouldn't be his secret anymore. If anyone got to know him, he would lose him. And that was something he would never allow. He wanted Tom to always be with him – just the two of them, without anyone else entering their twisted world.

~*~

A bit hesitantly, Tom took the bag from Weiss, slightly freaked out from the man's intense glare; was Weiss angry about something?

However before he managed to make sense of the situation, Weiss turned around and went to his room, locking the door. Tom shrugged - today he was way too cheerful to dwell on whatever might be bothering the moody man, and he returned back to his desk where the letter for the boy lay.

While he ate, he read over it one more time just to make sure it was perfect, and then eventually went to sleep, keeping the letter on the nightstand beside his bed, just to be sure it didn't go anywhere during the night.   
Tomorrow he would bring it to his beloved.

  
~*~

With a pathetic wail, Bill rolled over and slapped his hand down on his alarm clock that indicated 6:00 am; he hated mornings.

"Ugh. No. Why? I don't want to get up," Bill whined miserably into his empty room.

But of course it was no use, because a few minutes later his mother walked in. "Bill! Time to get up!" She switched on the light.

"I don't want to!" Bill whined.

"I know, sweetheart, but you have to go to school," she said patiently, like every morning.

"But I don't want to!" He wailed pathetically – like every morning.

"Come on Bill. Sooner or later you have to get up anyway." His mother sighed.

"But I don't want to!"

"Get out of bed, Bill!" Simone said loudly, pulling the warm covers away from him.

Bill mewled pathetically as he stalked briskly down the hall, into the bathroom; he absolutely hated going to school and couldn't wait to finally be done so he never had to go back to that horrible place ever again. But of course he had another 4 years before he was done. How would he ever survive that?! Bill asked his mirror this question every morning, but so far there had never been an answer.

After his morning routine, Bill slouched into the kitchen where his step-father was drinking coffee and fixing some breakfast for him. Eggs with toast.   
In between a few yawns, Bill ate his breakfast in total silence because mornings just didn't make him talkative. They sucked.

Just like every morning, he had to wait at the bus stop outside their house for the bus that was filled with dumb, noisy kids. It was windy, and Bill cowered into the corner of the little bus stop hut while he cursed the bus for taking so long.

The drive to school was remotely long, given it was just a few miles, and it was right around 7 that he finally arrived at school where he weaved through the crowds of loud students in search of his friends that he encountered around the lockers.

"What's our first class?" Bill asked as soon as he reached them.

"English and then biology. Just like every week," Gustav reminded him with a sigh.

"Ungh," Bill grumbled tiredly; "I hate Thursdays."

"It's Tuesday, Bill." Gustav said passively, earning a dark glare.

"Hurry up guys, we're about to be late for class!" Andreas said right before the bell rang.

Together with his friends, Bill went to his first class – English. He'd never been particularly good at it even though he usually spoke English with his dad, but that was a lot easier than learning all that bloody grammar.

  
Eagerly, Bill counted the seconds until the clock showed 2:30 pm so the bell would finally ring and he could go upstairs into the music room with the guys to practice a bit. For the past few weeks, every day after school they stayed behind to play because they had nowhere else to do it. All their neighbors had complained about the noise already, so this was pretty much their only option, and they really needed to practice because they would soon be having their first official gig in a small bar in Magdeburg in just a few weeks' time

"Alright, I'll meet you guys upstairs, I just need to leave my stuff in my locker." Bill waved as his friends made their way up the crowded hallway.

After turning the lock with the right combination, Bill opened his locker and was about to stuff his entire bag into it when suddenly he saw a white envelope that someone had pushed in through the top slit.

Curiously he looked around the crowded hall, but none of the students seemed to be looking his way or acting suspicious, so after removing the envelope and putting it in his pocket, he stuffed the bag into his locker and then made his way upstairs through the crowd that was beginning to thin.

Once safely upstairs in the empty hallway, he pulled out the envelope and examined it, but there was no name or anything else on it, so he just ripped it open and removed the folded sheet of paper from it.

 


	30. Chapter 30

A half moon is fading from my sight and I can see your vision in its light.  
I've been waiting for so long but now I'm hiding here alone.  
I'm fighting all this power coming in my way, it's making all my other senses fade away.  
For you I would run through a monsoon, beyond the world and to the end of time.  
You lit a fire deep in me. I'm burning, can't you see?  
Only you can set me free. Please come and rescue me.  
I would fight any storm and run into the blue, and when I lose myself I'll think of you.  
Together we'll be running somewhere new because nothing can hold me back from you.  
  


Bill stared wide eyed at the letter in his hand. Who had written that? And more so, for whom?!  
Was this letter meant for him...? But who would write it? Bill wasn't exactly popular in his school - mostly due to his looks and whatnot, so why would anyone write something like this for him? They had probably gotten the wrong locker.  
Yes, Bill concluded logically, someone had accidentally put this in his locker.

"Bill? Are you coming?" Andreas called from a few doors down the hall.

"Oh, yeah," Bill muttered, stuffing the letter into his pocket. He was completely overwhelmed by the beautiful letter and wished he could come up with lyrics as amazing as those. Who was the person who could write like that? And who was the lucky person it was intended for?

"Everything alright?" Andreas asked a bit concerned as Bill caught up with him. "What were you reading?"

Bill pulled out the letter and showed it to him.

"What's that?" Georg asked curiously, getting Gustav's attention as well, and Bill's three friends read over the letter.

"What is that?" Gustav asked the same question Georg had just asked.

"I don't know." Bill shook his head thoughtfully. "It was in an envelope in my locker."

"So it's like a secret admirer?" Andreas grinned.

"No, don't be stupid." Bill rolled his eyes and snatched the letter away from him. "It was put in my locker by accident."

"Who's it addressed to?" Gustav asked.

"No one. The envelope was blank." Bill pulled out the crumpled envelope to show them.

"So how do you know it's not for you?" Gustav questioned again.

"Who would write that for me?" Bill asked a bit sadly. The truth was that he had fallen head over heels in love with the writer, whoever that may be, and really wished the letter would have been intended for him, but didn't believe he'd be that lucky.

"Who would write it for anyone else?" Georg reasoned. "It could be for you. Maybe someone in our school has a crush on you." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"But who in our school is awesome enough to write that?" Gustav asked slowly, taking another look at the letter. "I mean seriously – this stuff is great. Imagine if we had a song with lyrics like this..."

"Hey our songs are good!" Bill defended.

"Yeah, sure, but this stuff is better than just good. It's crazy romantic – we have nothing like that." Gustav pointed out.

"Yeah Bill, why don't we have romance songs?" Andreas accused playfully.

"Because I've never been in love and I don't know what to write about it!" Bill whined miserably. He was really waiting to fall in love but it hadn't happened yet; ever since he'd been little, he'd been waiting for the glorious day on which he'd finally find true love, but that obviously wasn't happening. And now he'd gotten the most romantic letter he'd ever seen, and it was probably meant for someone else. Bill wanted to cry.

 

~*~

Cheerfully, Tom had waited outside in the freezing cold for school to finally be over so he could sneak inside again to see if he managed to find the boy. Would he stay behind to sing again?

Once most students had left, Tom casually strolled into the building, being completely ignored by all people he passed, and made his way up to the second floor where he had heard them playing yesterday.  
However as he got there, there was no music, only quiet voices speaking in German behind the closed door of the music room; Tom's German was terrible and he could only understand a few words.

"Quatsch, klar kann der Brief für dich sein, das weißt du doch nicht!" Someone said. All Tom had understood was something about a letter; were they talking about what he had written?

"Sicher nicht. Sowas schreibt doch niemand für mich..." This voice Tom recognized – it was him! And he had also understood part of what the boy had said – he didn't believe the letter was for him. Tom was utterly disappointed.

"Niemand würde _mir_ sowas schönes schreiben," the singer lamented sadly. Tom had only understood something about it having been beautiful, but surely not intended for him. How could he not believe that it was meant for him when he was the most incredible person ever? At least for Tom he was.

Obviously the stubborn boy needed more convincing – Tom had to write him another letter immediately. Well maybe not immediately because the boys were beginning to play, and he really wanted to listen, but he would do it later. Yes, Tom gave himself a mental nod, he would write this boy another letter to make sure he had understood what he meant to him.

~*~

Just like yesterday, Jörg was leading an internal battle with himself as to whether he should or shouldn't bring Tom up. It's not like he was really that close to dying or going to jail anyway, right? So it's not like he absolutely had to bring the boy up right now, right? He could do it next year too, right? Or maybe the year after that, right? Or possibly never... Right?

"Everything alright with you?" Simone asked quietly once Gordon had left the house to go buy some olive oil Simone needed for her salad.

"What? Yeah, why?" Jörg shrugged, immediately feeling uncomfortable. Simone had always had this horrible ability to see right through him.

"You're more distracted and creepy than usual." She laughed softly, giving him a curious look.

"I've just had a lot on my mind lately." He waved his hand in dismissal, hoping she would drop it.

"Such as?" Of course she didn't.

"Just random stuff. How's Bill doing in school anyway?" He casually changed the subject, hoping she would be taken over by her motherly instincts and talk about her son.

"Terrible," she groaned – obviously it worked. "He hates it. I think the only reason he's still going is because he gets to rehearse his music there after class. You know how much he loves to sing... I'm so glad he's got the three boys he always hangs out with – without those he would blank out refuse to go to school."

"Oh." Jörg said passively, not really knowing what to say. These family problems really weren't his kind of thing. "I think he mentioned something about being in a band with these kids?" Jörg tried to remember the endless rambles Bill told him on the phone on those scarce occasions when they spoke.

"Yes, they call themselves Devilish now," Simone grinned while Jörg chuckled.

"I thought it was something about question marks?" He remembered Bill having told him that name once.

"Oh yeah, Black Question Mark. But that was before. They upgraded to Devilish after a newspaper wrote about them," she said proudly.

"Wow... newspaper... So they're actually going somewhere with that?" Jörg was very surprised – he always thought his son's singing was a flimsy hobby that was far from serious.

"Yes. They actually have a performance in a bar in Magdeburg close to New Years, so they are rehearsing all the time now."

"Oh." Despite not knowing what to say, Jörg was quite proud of him. Even though Bill could come across as very immature and silly, Jörg knew that deep down he was actually well beyond his years and far more capable than most people gave him credit for. Almost a bit like Tom, really.  
Again, Tom weaseled his way into Jörg's thoughts, ruining any chance he might have to concentrate.

"Are you spending Christmas here? Bill is really looking forward to it. You haven't spent Christmas here in... What, 4 years?" Simone carried on with casual conversations.

"Yeah. Yeah..." Jörg nodded, his thoughts going back to Tom again; actually he wanted to spend Christmas with him, but that probably wouldn't work. Maybe he could do both...?

"Actually there's something I've been meaning to talk to you and Gordon about..." he began hesitantly.

"Oh?" Simone raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah... About two years ago I met this boy. His name is-"

"I'm baaaaack!" Bill's loud voice could be heard throughout the entire house.

"We'll talk about it later," Simone promised while rolling her eyes at Bill's loud entrance. "Shoes, Bill!" She yelled a second later, storming off into the hall.

"Tom..." Jörg murmured into the empty kitchen, mentally cursing his son for showing up in that precise moment.

"We had this awesome practice session today!" Bill half yelled as he pranced into the kitchen, wearing his slippers just like Simone had ordered.

"And oh my god, I got this really weird letter!" Bill carried on, waving around a crumpled piece of paper. "Someone left it in my locker by accident and it's awesome. Its got this really cool poem sort of thingy on it and we want to turn it into a song! Well I don't know yet maybe not exactly the way it's written there, but sort of because it's eeeeeepiiiiiic!" Bill sang loudly, running around like a crazy person.

Jörg raised his eyebrow at Simone, but she just shrugged helplessly.

"I think I already have a tune to it. It goes kinda like 'through the monsoon'!" Bill clapped his hands excitedly. "What's a monsoon anyway? It's a storm of some kind, right? It's going to be so awesome. It will go something like 'running through the monsoon, beyond the world and to the end of time!'"

With Bill it was sometimes impossible to know whether he was actually expecting an answer to his questions or not, so Jörg just remained silent while Bill read the letter to him. It was actually pretty nice – very poetic and totally emo. It almost reminded him of how he felt for Tom... Tom for whom he was burning but who'd never come to rescue him.

"Tomorrow I'm staying at school later because the guys and I have to see if we can turn this stuff into an actual song. And I have to see if I can find the amazingly awesome person who wrote this!" Bill carried on excitedly before running out of the kitchen yelling, "I have to take this upstairs, be right back!"

"Awww. My baby's first love letter!" Simone cooed once Bill had ran upstairs.

"I thought he said it was left in his locker by accident," Jörg said dully, feeling childishly jealous of his son for getting love letters. He was officially going crazy.

"Whatever," Simone dismissed cheerfully, busying herself with dinner. "Make yourself useful and set the table," she laughed after Jörg just sat there for a moment, watching her.

~*~

Lovingly, Bill flattened the crumpled paper on his desk, reading over it again. Despite it not being for him, it was still an amazing letter and he really wanted to meet the boy or girl who had written it. ' _Maybe they'll fall in love with me instead and we'll live happily ever after!'_

Of course Bill knew that wouldn't happen, but he dared to dream big.

For the first time since forever, he was actually looking forward to going to school tomorrow. They would try out a few tunes to match the lyrics, and maybe change them a bit to rhyme more... He hadn't really made up his mind yet, despite having been able to think of nothing else ever since the moment he first read the text, but these things needed to be done right.  
And somehow, he had no idea how, but somehow, he would find the writer of this letter. It didn't matter how long it took or how much effort on his part; whoever had written that letter was – in Bill's silly fantasies – the love of his life and he needed to find them no matter the cost.


	31. Chapter 31

Weiss hadn't been around for dinner, but Tom didn't care. He barely felt the hunger because he was completely consumed with writing another short letter.

Just like yesterday, Weiss eventually showed up with a bag for dinner, which Tom thanked him for and then disappeared back into his room to keep working. Tomorrow while the boy was in class, he would leave the letter in his locker again. And he would do that over and over until the boy had understood that the letters were meant for him.

 

~*~

Jörg lay down on his bed with a frown, wondering what was up with Tom. Just like yesterday, he had been utterly delighted and in a hurry to get back to whatever he was doing; what the hell was he up to?

Of course he hadn't managed to bring him up to Simone and Gordon, so another day had gone by during which Tom was still his secret. It was only a few days till Christmas, and if he wanted to spend it with both his family and Tom, he needed to do something quick.

But how would Simone react? And should he tell her about the fake birth certificate...? Probably not... However, should something really happen to him, child services would bring Tom to her, thinking he was her son... And Simone was probably aware that she had only given birth to one kid, not two, so maybe he really should mention that part.  
She would probably be really upset... What if she refused? Or worse, sold him out to the police?

No, Simone would never do that... Or would she? She had no idea what he did, after all. She, Gordon and Bill thought that he was nothing but a simple truck driver... And he wasn't sure he wanted them to think anything different – especially for Bill's sake – knowing that his father was a mercenary couldn't be good for the kid's mental stability. And Bill's mental stability was already questionable enough as it were...

But then what should he do? Tell them that Tom was the son of a friend? But then why did he not have a real birth certificate?  
Oh this was all so messed up... Jörg hadn't thought about any of this when he had taken the kid in.

 

 

~*~

As soon as the alarm rang, Bill jumped out of bed and switched the light on to find his clothes. Unlike on all other days, he was really looking forward to going to school today.

 _'Wow really, I am?'_ Bill paused a second in front of his closet mirror to ask himself that, but apparently it was true. He really needed to find the person who had written that letter.

"Bill, time to...Bill? What are you doing?" Simone asked in disbelief as she walked into the room, staring around.

"I'm ready for breakfast!" Bill said enthusiastically, heading for the stairs.

"Ok...?" Simone muttered as he ran past her.

"Morning Gordon!" Bill said happily as entered the kitchen.

His stepfather raised an eyebrow, grinning down at him. "Morning kiddo. Hungry?" He asked as he placed a plate with toast in front of him.

"Starving!" Bill exclaimed happily, stuffing himself with cheese toast.

"Anything exciting going on in school today?" Gordon asked as he ate his own breakfast.

"Yes!" Bill said through his mouthful of toast. "Well no, not really. But yes because we want to practice a new song from the letter I got! And I'm going to see if I can find the person who wrote it. And I already have a lot of ideas of how we should do it and I already wrote down a bunch of other lyrics that we might be able to use and I already have a few tunes in mind and maybe the other guys came up with something else and it's going to be awesome!" Bill rambled excitedly.

"Alright then," Gordon chuckled amused and nodded.

"Of course I have no idea who that could be because seriously, how many people in our school even speak enough English for that, right? So there's probably not a lot of options and I don't know anyone who could have written that so I have no idea where to begin... Maybe I should ask our English teacher who is good enough at English for that and who could have written it but if she asks to see the letter then I'm so not showing it to her!" Bill carried on talking while Gordon just nodded with a smile, and Simone eventually joined them by the table, sipping her coffee and looking tired.

Unlike on all other days, Bill was at the bus station way too early, and was barely bothered by the cold; he was in a way too good mood to pay attention to silly things like weather or dumb kids on the bus, and could hardly wait to get to his locker; of course he knew that the letter had been placed there by accident, but... there was still the miniscule chance that maybe it hadn't?

Bill was generally very unreasonable and loved to daydream about impossible things such as world fame and the love of his life, so of course it was the only thing he could think of until he arrived at his locker, and found it empty of any letters.

Well that was to be expected. Nevertheless, he was a bit downcast; of course he had believed that the letter wasn't meant for him, but now he knew it. And it made him feel worse than he cared to admit.

"Morning Bill!" Georg greeted him cheerfully, walking up to him.

"Morning," Bill mumbled. At least his friends wouldn't know that he was down – he was always in a bad mood in the morning anyway.

"Class is about to start – let's go!" Gustav called at them from a little down the hall, and soon enough they were all sitting through a long, boring lesson of math. Bill hated math. Especially today. Today he hated everything more than usually.

 

~*~

Given the fact that kids mostly ignored him, Tom had gotten quite bold and dared to walk the half-full school halls in bright daylight. There were so many kids that none really paid any attention to him, and he managed to sneak through them, hoody pulled lowly so no one would see his face too well.  
Making sure not to get any attention, he stood at the end of the row of lockers, waiting for the boy to show up.

However he never did.  
The halls slowly emptied as the students left the school, but the boy never showed up.

A bit crestfallen, he waiting around for quite a while longer, but eventually went upstairs to the music room; had the boy skipped the locker today and gone straight up here?

Apparently so, because by the time Tom got there, music could already be heard from inside the room; it was a song that Tom hadn't heard them playing yet, and they didn't seem all too practiced with it because they kept breaking it off and starting again; was it new?

Their playing began and broke off dozens of times, and Tom heard bits and pieces of lyrics that sounded suspiciously much like what he had written...  
However it was too unclear to actually be able to make it out; was the boy really trying to turn his letter into a song...?

The mere thought made Tom smile brightly; even if it wasn't true, it was a great thought, and lately Tom had gotten into the whole daydreaming thing.

 

~*~

Their rehearsal had gone quite good, despite that they barely got to practice their old songs because they had all been so enthusiastic about the new song and wanted to try that out. It had gone great for the first time, and Bill was already working on the new verse. So far they had only used a bit of it... Maybe they would manage to turn it into two different songs...?  
There was a lot missing for it to be an actual song, but it was very inspiring.

Feeling a bit better, Bill finally returned to his dreaded locker. Earlier he had avoided it because he was angry at it for not having another letter for him, but now he was over it; sooner or later he had to go there, after all. Plus he needed his history book to do homework.

After entering the combination, he opened the door and his heart skipped a beat as he saw another white envelope lying there. Excitedly he pulled it out and was about to rip it open, but then looked around the empty hallway, hoping to see who it was from, however there was no one there.

Was it a mistake again...? No way... These letters had to be for him, right? No way... they totally weren't. Or were they?!  
With a soft wail, Bill ripped the envelope open; he would just pretend that it was for him then.

In utter delight, Bill read over the poetic verses, falling in love all over again. Who the hell was this person who wrote these things?!

Giggling in delight, he ran outside to catch the bus home; he needed to call the guys and tell them about it. Today was officially the best day of his life.

~*~

Tom peeked out from behind the row of lockers as the boy skipped down the hall happily, and couldn't stop himself from smiling too; at least now the boy knew that the letter was meant for him, right?  
And if not, Tom would just write him another one. But first he needed to wait until tomorrow to see what would happen... Not that he really had a plan, especially because he was well aware of the horrible fact that in just a few days he had to go back to America and would probably never see the love of his life ever again. But at least until then he had to make sure the boy knew how he felt about him.

 

~*~

"And I think I got Bill the completely wrong presents. Seriously, he just wants clothes and make-up but..." Simone sighed tragically.

"There, there, dear, I'm sure Bill will appreciate whatever you got him." Gordon soothed her while he sieved the noodles for lunch.

"I got him a tennis racquet and a football. The lady at the store said that's what all 14 year olds wanted this year." Simone sighed.

"Oh yeah. He's gonna hate you." Gordon chuckled.

Simone groaned, stirring in her pot of noodle sauce. "Yeah... Great. Anyway... Speaking of Christmas... Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me yesterday, Jörg?" She asked, turning over to him.

Jörg had been cutting cucumbers and tomatoes for a salad, just listening in amusement. "What?" He asked distractedly, fully knowing what Simone was talking about but not knowing how to answer.

"Yesterday you were going to tell me something but then Bill showed up." Simone reminded him.

"Oh... That," Jörg muttered slowly, giving her an uncertain look that was obviously not lost on Gordon either, who raised an eyebrow. This was the perfect moment to tell them.

"Yeah... About Christmas... There's someone I-"

"I'm baaaack!" Bill's jarring voice rang through the house and a moment later a door slammed.

"Oh for the love of god..." Jörg grumbled in annoyance.

"We'll talk later," Simone laughed as she went over to make sure Bill put his slippers on.

"Everything ok?" Gordon chuckled quietly, obviously not having missed Jörg's annoyance.

"Yeah... great. How do you put up with that kid? He's psychotic," Jörg growled.

"I bet that's genetic," Gordon grinned with a wink.

Before Jörg could reply, Bill ran into the kitchen excitedly, waving around a piece of paper. "I got another letter!" He yelled excitedly.

Jörg and Gordon exchanged an amused smile while Bill proudly read his love letter to Simone who coed over every word.

"Maybe it totally wasn't an accident that it was left in my locker, that's possible, right?" Bill asked hopefully, looking around at the three grown-ups in the room.

"Of course it's possible," Simone encouraged immediately, and Bill carried on babbling about their music session today. Jörg was only listening with half an ear, lost in his own love problems.

"Go wash your hands, Bill, we can eat in 5 minutes!" Simone eventually ushered him out of the kitchen.

"Jörg would you please set the table?" She laughed once Bill had stalked out of the kitchen to wash his hands.

Jörg cleared away the newspaper from today, and Bill's letter which was still lying there. As he sat the newspaper and the letter down on the counter, his eyes grazed over the writing on the paper and his heart nearly stopped. He knew that writing... There was only one person in the world who had such a terrible, scrawny scribble.

Jealousy pulsed through his veins as he read the words that Bill had read to him earlier.

'I follow every breath you take. Into the night when the world has long lost its light.  
For you I would go a thousand oceans wide, a thousand years after time has died.  
I'll let your heartbeat guide me through the dark, until the sun will shine like never before.  
You're taking me to parts of my mind that no one can find, and I'm ready to fall.  
I'm ready to crawl.  
I'm ready to beg on my knees to know it all.  
One day we'll be ready to go and you'll see the world behind my wall.' 

Now suddenly Tom's behavior made sense – he had met Bill. And more so, fallen for him. Jörg clenched his fists, trying to contain his anger. How dare Tom fall in love, and with Jörg's own son to top it.  



	32. Chapter 32

Jörg was barely able to breathe, and still incapable of removing his eyes from the letter. This couldn't be happening. It had to be some sick, twisted joke. Or maybe karma paying him back for all the terrible things he'd done in his life.

"Jörg! Table!" Simone called, but he could barely hear her. He felt sick. And above all, he wanted to kill Bill. And Tom. How dare they betray him like this.

"Jörg?" Simone asked a bit concerned, coming over to him. "Is everything ok?"

"I have to go." He said passively.

"What? Right now? We're about to have lunch." Simone pointed at the food.

"I'll see you later." Jörg said quietly, leaving the kitchen and slipping his shoes on in the hallway.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Simone followed him to the door.

"Yeah, fine." He couldn't even come up with an excuse right now because his mind wasn't working properly.

"Jörg wait! What about tomorrow? It's Christmas!" Simone yelled after him, but he ignored her.

Burning with rage, he stalked to his car and then drove, without knowing where he was going. He just needed to get away from... everything. Especially Bill.  
He knew that Tom enjoyed talking to Bill on the phone, and he had thought that perhaps they would become friends, but this... this was too much. Of course he also knew Tom would never feel the same way about him, and he could accept that, but Tom being in love with Bill... that he could never accept.

How had things come to this? How had he let it get this? He couldn't remember a single time in his life when he had been more upset than right now, and it was all because of that damned boy. How had he let himself fall so deep? He was far past the final threshold and no matter what happened one, it would end in a complete disaster.  
Why hadn't he just killed Tom when he had had the chance?

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and there was obviously no chance that he would be spending it with... with anyone. There was no one he wanted to see right now, so he needed an excuse to get away from his family. And of course there was no way he would tell them about Tom now... That was the last thing he needed – Bill and Tom starting a teenager romance. The thought made him want to rip someone's guts out and strangle them with it. Preferably Bill... or Tom. Or both.

 

~*~

Unlike the days before, Weiss didn't drop by with dinner, nor did Tom hear him enter his room that evening; was he out working? Had he gone on whatever assignment they needed to do, without him?

Not that Tom minded, of course, he was far too happy to kill people today anyway, and still dreaming about the boy's beautiful smile. He couldn't wait until tomorrow after school when he could hear him singing again.

Slightly hungry but still very happy, Tom finally fell asleep shortly after midnight, dreaming of tomorrow when he'd finally be able to see him again. 24 hours were simply way too long without him.

 

~*~

It was past 3 am when Jörg finally unlocked the door to his hotel room. He was utterly exhausted and felt desolate.  
Before entering, he paused and looked over at the door behind which Tom was probably sleeping... Or still awake, writing love letters for Bill...

Overcome with new anger, he quietly closed his door and crept over to Tom's, trying the handle that was locked. Not that that really bothered him... After a quick glance around the hall to make sure he was alone, he removed the lock picking set he always carried with him, and after a few seconds, the cheap lock sprung open.

The room was dark – apparently Tom wasn't writing anything – and Jörg opened the door a bit wider so the light from the hall would shine in more. The room looked just like his own, except the waste bin was overflowing with crumpled papers. Simple white papers... Just like the ones that held Bill's letters.  
As stealthily as possible, Jörg snuck to the paper bin and picked one of the papers up; it held fragments of the finished letter that had been left in Bill's locker, removing any speck of doubt about their origin.

During his drive, Jörg had thought that perhaps there was a small chance that the letters were from someone else, and he was just being paranoid, but obviously not. Obviously Tom was head over hills in love with Bill.

In a mixture of anger and sadness, Jörg stared down at Tom's sleeping face. He looked perfectly content. While Jörg's world was crashing down.  
How could Tom do this to him? How could he betray him like that?

This was the reason Jörg preferred to be on his own – there was no one who could hurt him like this. And the worst part was that Tom wasn't even aware of it. He had no idea what he had just done to them.

 

~*~

Apparently Weiss had had a late night because he wasn’t around for breakfast either. Tom decided not to wait because he had to find a Christmas present for the boy; in the halls of the school he had read that today was the last day of school before the Christmas holidays, so if he wanted to give him a present, it had to be today.

But of course that was a lot easier said than done, because Tom had no idea about presents, or where he could find any around here… Probably nowhere. And what would he even like? Tom didn’t know much about him… Except that he liked music and crazy clothes…

Buying presents was always such a hassle, which now reminded him that he had left Weiss’ present in America and had nothing to give to him tomorrow… Should he also buy something small for him? He didn’t want Weiss to think that he had forgotten or something… And he could always give him the actual present later. But what should he get him…?

Christmas was so terrible.

Since there were no proper stores in Zielitz, Tom eventually ended up taking the train to Magdeburg; he hated going to places alone, but right now it couldn’t be helped. This was a Christmas emergency after all.

 

Unfortunately, by the time Tom finally made it back from Magdeburg, it was well past 4pm, and the school was already locked. He had missed his chance to give him the present… By the time the Christmas holidays were over and the school was open again, he would be long back in America…

Crestfallen, Tom wandered back to the hotel. By the time he got there, it was already getting dark, and the streets were brightly lit by the countless Christmas decorations. There were few people on the streets, and everyone was in a hurry to get home to their Christmas dinner; what would Tom be doing today? He didn’t feel like celebrating anything; he was still sad because he had missed the boy at school.

As he unlocked the door to his room, Weiss suddenly opened his door, glaring at him. “Where have you been?” He snapped angrily.

“I’m sorry. I was out.” Tom mumbled, not willing to say where he had really gone. He was already feeling terrible, and now Weiss was only making it worse.

“Whatever. We have work to do. Get geared up.” Weiss ordered coldly, closing the door.

Tom stared at the closed door; they were going to work? Right now…? They were going to kill someone on Christmas Eve?  
It’s not like Tom was religious or anything, but killing someone on Christmas Eve seemed somewhat unnecessary – couldn’t they do it tomorrow or something?

But of course he had no choice in the matter, so he fixed the rifle that had remained stored in his luggage, and placed it inside the bag together with the handgun and knife they always carried for emergencies. Before leaving his room, he quickly scribbled something on the Christmas card for Weiss, which he pushed under the man’s door once this one had already gone down the stairs to the car.

“Hurry up already!” Weiss snapped impatiently once Tom finally caught up with him; obviously Weiss was in a rather bad mood today. Not that he had been in any sort of good mood since they had arrived in Germany, but today was even worse. Tom really missed Paris; he hadn’t forgotten how great it had been there, and how well he and Weiss had been getting along…

After storing the rifle bag in the trunk, he sat down next to Weiss, and they slowly pulled into the snow covered street. The car was cold, so Tom stuffed his hands into his pockets, only to realize he had taken the boy’s Christmas present with him; horrified, he pulled his hand back out, not wanting Weiss to realize that. If the man found out, he would probably just taunt him or something…

The drive was rather short, and soon they pulled into a small street that only had a few houses scattered here and there.

“Our target lives in there,” Weiss commented as they drove past one of the houses. “We’ll park down the road, and then go around the left – it leaves a clear view of the living room where they should sit down for their Christmas dinner soon.”

“Why do we have to kill him on Christmas?” Tom muttered quietly, knowing this would just anger Weiss even more.

“You think his relatives will be happier about his death tomorrow?” Weiss laughed coldly.

Tom said nothing, and soon they parked, took their equipment, and headed back up the road. The house’s garden was surrounded by a short brick wall, less than 4 feet high, which was perfect for stationing a rifle. After they set up, Weiss placed the ammunition on the ground, and Tom loaded; it was freezing cold… They usually never worked in winter because the cold was bad for the ammo, and the shivering from cold wasn’t very good for human precision either.  
In the garden there was a snowman, with a broken carrot nose and a blue scarf. Did this man have children…?

Through the decorated window, Tom saw a woman setting a large, also decorated table that was probably only used for special occasions. They usually never killed people with witnesses around… What was going on here?

“What about the woman?” Tom asked hesitantly.

“We leave no witnesses.” Weiss replied coldly.

“How many people are there?” Tom asked, even more uncertain than before.

“Three.”

So there was a child involved too. Tom knew of the whole ‘no witness’ policy, of course, but so far it had never meant that they had to kill an entire family… Including their child.

“But…” Tom muttered.

“First I will take out our main target, then his wife. You’ll handle the kid. Simultaneous shots, just like always.” Weiss interrupted his protest, obviously not caring that Tom didn’t want to shoot any children.

Tom swallowed drily, looking through the telescope of his rifle; it wasn’t actually far, and the shot could easily be made without a telescope, but they always worked precisely and took no risks.  
Through the telescope he saw the woman bringing in some bowls, followed by a man who was helping her with it; what had he done that his entire family deserved to die?

No matter how long Tom had been doing this, every time he killed someone, he wondered what they had done that someone wanted them dead. This man looked like a completely ordinary person: living in the suburbs with his wife and child, in a quaint little house with a snowman in the garden.

Once the man and woman sat down, obviously chattering merrily about something, their son finally came in, obviously very excited over the Christmas dinner.  
Tom felt his blood running cold as he recognized the boy who had just walked in. This couldn’t be happening.

Completely paralyzed, he stared through the telescope as the beautiful boy sat down with his parents, and his father began cutting their Christmas turkey.

“Target locked?” Weiss asked quietly, bringing him back down to Earth.

“What?” Tom whispered horrified. “No.”

“Then get on with it!” The man snapped impatiently.

“No. Wait,” Tom whispered desperately, removing his finger from the trigger.

“What?” Weiss snapped again.

“Y-you can’t kill them,” Tom muttered stupidly, almost trembling with fear; what was happening here? This couldn’t be real! Surely this was just some terrible nightmare he was having. His ultimate nightmare… Having to kill the person he was in love with…

“Wanna bet?” Weiss chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“No, no, I mean… Why? What have they done?” Of course Tom knew that if they didn’t kill them, someone else would but… He couldn’t. Not him.

“We don’t ask questions, kid. Now get on with it.” Obviously Weiss was losing the little patience he had.

“No. Can’t we just… kill the man and and… and not the others?” He asked desperately; of course that wasn’t what he wanted, but maybe the only way out. The man was the target, if they killed him, no one else had a reason to go after the boy or his mother, right?

“Stop being stupid. You’re getting on my nerves.” Weiss growled dangerously. “Now lock target.”

“No,” Tom whispered, shaking his head.

“What?!” Weiss snarled angrily.

“I-I don’t want to…” Tom barely dared to speak at this point; he had actually never refused something the man had ordered him to do - what would happen now…?

“I don’t care what you want. Do it!” The man snapped impatiently, not removing his finger from the trigger.

“Please…” Tom muttered so quietly he could barely hear himself speaking over the wind in the trees. “I’ve never asked you for anything… Just please don’t kill the boy.” He whispered hoarsely.

Weiss laughed quietly. It was one of those horrible, cold laughs that Tom hadn’t heard lately; the sound made him shiver.

“You’re right. It would be a real shame… Such a pretty kid. Maybe I should have a bit of fun with him before killing him, hm?” He smirked.

Tom stared at him in disbelief. Out of all the horrible things Weiss had ever said, this was by far the worst. He could barely believe it came from the same man whose company he had come to enjoy lately.  
Over the past few years, Tom had really begun to believe Weiss was different than the other men he had known – that he was different than the first time they had met – but obviously not. And now he wanted… he wanted the love of Tom’s life…

At this point, Tom could barely breathe from fear, shock and disgust. How could he have been so wrong in that man? And how could he save the boy?

“Please don’t,” he whispered desperately. “I’ll do anything you want.” Of course he knew what he was saying, and prayed to god that Weiss would understand.

“Oh yeah?” Weiss laughed, pushing himself upright from the crouching position they were in, and finally removing his hand from the trigger.

Tom also stood up, clenching his fist around the present he had bought for the boy to keep himself from trembling too much.

“Then turn around.” Weiss smirked acidly, giving him a challenging look.

“Right here?” Tom whispered in disbelief; it was in the middle of winter and…

Weiss laughed haughtily. “What? Think you’re too good for an alley?”

“No,” Tom whispered softly, turning around.

 

 

 


	33. Chapter 33

Jörg wanted to break down at the boy’s whispered ‘no’. Did he truly believe he wasn’t worth better…? How could he think that?   
Roughly, he pushed the kid against the snow covered brick wall, yanking his head back by his hair.

“Why the hell are you doing this?” Jörg whispered angrily. “Do you think he will ever know? Do you think he would even care?”

Tom said nothing, remaining completely still. Would he truly do that? Would he really sacrifice himself for Bill’s sake? Did he actually care about him that much?  
It only served to anger Jörg even more. He had no idea what the hell he even wanted, coming here tonight and letting Tom believe that he was about to kill Bill… Of course the ammunition had been blank - it’s not like Jörg really intended to kill his own family, but he was so angry at Tom that he wanted to see him miserable. As miserable as Jörg felt himself.

Bitterly, he laughed again, holding the boy close with a hand around his neck; this was as close as they had ever stood, and as close as they ever would; he knew that he was making the biggest mistake of his life, but right now he was too hurt and angry to care.

With his other hand, he free himself and the kid from the clothes in his way, the cold air biting his exposed skin, but he could barely feel it over the adrenalin in his blood.   
Far too rough and without any sort of warning, he pushed into the boy’s hot body, eliciting a loud scream from him that he cut short by clapping a hand over his mouth. Nevertheless, the scream echoed through the street, and rang loudly in his ears long after it had disappeared.

Obviously Simone, Gordon and Bill had heard it, as well as the neighboring dog, because they all looked up and stopped talking while the dog barked loudly.   
In horror, Jörg watched as Gordon got up, and a second later opened the front door to look outside, but the door led away from the dark yard, and soon enough Gordon went back inside, and the dog stopped barking.

Jörg remained still until he saw Bill babbling carelessly again, and then slowly dug himself deeper into the object of his sick desire.   
Tom whimpered and groaned, but the sound was mostly muffled by Jörg’s hand over his mouth.

“Shut up!” Jörg growled angrily, not bearing to hear him in pain. This wasn’t what he wanted. He couldn’t even think of what it was that he was currently doing because it was just too terrible. In his fantasies it had been nothing like this; in his fantasies Tom wanted to be with him, and moaned in pleasure instead of pain. But of course reality never worked that way; reality was disgusting and painful.

Gasping in cold winter air, he wrapped his arm around the trembling, whimpering boy that was threatening to collapse despite being trapped between Jörg and the brick wall that he was leaning over slightly, his hands dug deeply into the cold snow that covered it. Filled with anger and grief, he pushing harshly into the boy’s delicate, small body that he had yearned for and fantasized with for such a long time, that a few brief moments were enough to throw him overboard.

Shivering and nauseated, he leaned over the unmoving boy for a few moments while he tried to ignore the world and what he had just done. As he slowly regained control of himself and his thoughts, it all came crashing down, and he pulled himself out of the kid, eliciting another pained whimper from him.

Angrily, he pushed himself away from the wall, letting the boy collapse to the ground in a trembling mess that he didn’t dare look at. What had he done…?

As he looked down at his hand he saw small traces of blood on it; had the kid bitten himself? Had he held him so roughly that he had injured him?  
But then again - what was a busted lip in comparison to the other pain he had just caused…

Feeling completely sick, Jörg shakily fixed his clothes and then packed away their rifles into the bags that he hung over his shoulder before looking back down at the kid who still hadn’t moved.   
He was so angry at him; how could he have allowed this? Why hadn't Tom stopped him? Physically he was more than capable of defending himself, so why hadn't he? He hadn’t even tried. Jörg knew how scared Tom was of all this, and that he would probably rather die than have sex, so why?! How could he be so utterly stupid as to let Jörg do this to him for some random kid? Of course the random kid was Bill, but… did Tom even know that…? If he had known, he would have never believed that Jörg was about to kill them all, right?

“You’re completely pathetic. Do you really think a boy like that is ever going to look twice at you?” He asked with a cold laugh that made his own skin crawl. “You will never mean more than a lousy fuck to anyone!” He snarled bitterly. ‘ _Other than me…_ ’   
Unable to keep a steady voice, Jörg walked away, his vision blurred by the grief he was unable to keep inside any longer.

~*~

Tom remained silent, even long after Weiss had driven away, leaving him all alone in the cold winter night. Out of all the times in his life that he'd been hurt like this, this had by far been the worst. Not because it was more painful - given some of the other things he had had to endure, it was nothing – but because of who it was that had caused him that pain.

He had trusted Weiss, and even cared about him; how could he have betrayed him like this?   
And then there was still the fact that Weiss had been right. The boy would never look at him twice – he just liked the letters Tom wrote, but if he knew whom they were coming from, he would be completely appalled.

The truth was that no one at all cared about him, not even Weiss; the man just wanted him for lousy sex when there was no one else around, and the only reason he didn’t physically force him to it was because they both knew Tom would kill him for it. Which was also something he should be doing now, but he just couldn’t bring up enough anger. He knew he should be furious, but actually he was just sad.   
He had just lost the only person that came even close to… to what? A friend? A family? It didn’t really matter, the point was that he had lost him, and was now completely alone in the world.

These and many other soul crushing thoughts crossed his mind while he sat outside the boy’s yard, waiting for the pain to subdue a bit before somehow attempting to find his way back to the hotel; he didn’t even know where he was.

Eventually his tears faded away, and the cold became too much, so he carefully got back up, still completely shaken and barely able to stand. He felt the familiar pain he hadn’t felt in years, and it brought a new wave of tears to his eyes; not just because it was so painful, but because it was a pain he had hoped to never have to feel again.

Taking a few deep breaths, he steadied himself on the brick wall, looking into the living room where the boy was still running around the small Christmas tree. He looked so delighted.   
Tom smiled weakly at the sight; even if the boy would never know or care, it had been worth it. All the pain in the world was worth that boy’s happiness, and it’s not like it really made a big difference for Tom anyway. It was just one more time for him, whereas for that boy it was everything, even if he didn’t know it; it would have ruined his life and destroyed that bright smile forever.

That smile for which he had bought the present that was still in his pocket. Not knowing what else to do with it, he threw it over the small wall into the yard; maybe the boy would find it some day.

~*~

Aimlessly, Jörg drove through the deserted streets, out of the small town and onto the country road that he had no idea where it would lead him, still unable to comprehend what he had done. There had been many times in his life when he had felt terrible about things he had done, and many times he hated himself, but nothing came even remotely close to this moment right now. He loathed himself beyond words, and if he had been able to, he would have beaten himself to death.  
How could he have done that? How could he have abused the person he loved more than anything? What kind if a horrible person was he?   
He was painfully reminded of his own father, and the things the man had done on nights when he was heavily drunk; Jörg had sworn himself never to become like that. He had hated his father so much for the things he had done to him, and now he went ahead and did the exact same thing to someone he was supposed to care for. Had he learned nothing?

Jörg well remembered how those nights had made him feel; how betrayed and hurt he had been every time his father abused him in drunken anger, and how it had eventually lead to his father’s untimely death. Would Tom kill him? He should… Jörg hoped he would.

As he left the town, he sped along the narrow, winding country road, not caring that the car skidded across the snow covered road in narrow turns, a few times nearly throwing him out of the lane. Maybe it would be better that way... Maybe if he was dead, Tom would feel better and it would spare him the trouble of having to kill someone; Jörg knew the boy wasn’t very fond of killing.   
Of course Jörg also knew that was a pathetic excuse – he just wanted to die because he was unable to live with the guilt of what he had done; his death wouldn't be beneficiary for Tom in any way. Or would it...?

Wantonly, he gazed at the dark, icy road ahead of him; anyone could die in an accident on a road like this. And if he died... Tom would be able to live free, wouldn't he?

No, he wouldn't. Child services would bring him to Simone who would deny him as her son and he would be put in foster care, with a family who would never understand him or care about him the way he deserved to be cared for; if he died now, all chances of a future for Tom were gone.   
Even if he really wanted to be selfish and die, he knew it would only make things worse for Tom on the long run. Even though Tom would never forgive him, he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to him.

With this thought in mind, he slowed down a bit; he could die later as well – first he had to make sure that Tom had a place to go. Simone and Gordon were not an option anymore; he couldn't force Tom to live together with Bill after what had happened... First he had to come up with a better solution – he could always kill himself later, right?

Swallowing his guilt and self-pity, Jörg drove back to the hotel where he dragged himself up the stairs, barely having enough strength to stand; this had been the worst night of his life, and all he wanted was to crawl into bed and die. Or at least forget it ever happened.

Shakily, he unlocked the door, stepped inside and then locked it again, leaning heavily against it for a few seconds before sagging down to the floor, not finding the strength to go to his bed.   
How would he ever live with himself after this?

And where was Tom…? He had left him there… Should he go back? But he didn’t want to see him… He was scared of the pain and betrayal he knew he would find in his eyes. How would he ever face him again after what he’d done?  
But he couldn’t just leave him there either, injured and alone in the middle of a winter night… On Christmas…

Swallowing thickly, he pulled out his phone and called the cab company, telling them where they should pick him up. It was the only thing he dared to do.   
After making the call, he let his hand fall limply down to the floor, where it fell on something that was not the hotel carpet; it felt like paper.

Curiously, Jörg pulled himself up and switched on the light, staring down at the Christmas card on the floor. It was red and had a polar bear on it.

Almost scared, he reached for the card and opened it, revealing Tom’s terrible scribble:

 _Merry Christmas!_  
I know this card isn’t really good, but I left your present at home, I'm really sorry.   
I hope you have a really wonderful Christmas anyway, despite that you have to work so much. I’m always here when you need me.  

_Love,  
Tom_

Jörg was overcome by a new wave of nausea. How could he have…? Tom trusted him and he had abused him… What had he been thinking?!

Sick and guilt-ridden, he staggered into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and wash the blood stains off his hand, all the while repeating the same question over and over in his head: how could he?

But of course no answer ever came, and eventually he fell into his bed, quietly crying into his pillow - something he hadn’t done in years. But then again, it wasn’t every day he made such an unspeakable mistake.   
Obviously he had learned nothing from his first encounter with Tom, which he had so dearly regretted, but not at all in comparison to tonight. How could he ever make this right?

The answer was painfully clear: he couldn't. Things would never be alright again between him and Tom.

 

~*~

Tom limped down the road until he reached the bigger street where there was a taxi waiting; was it free…?

As he walked up to it, the driver rolled down the window. “Bist du Tom?” he asked in a rather gruff voice.

Tom just nodded, unable to say anything as he got in and tried to sit in some way that wasn't utterly painful.   
Had Weiss gotten this cab for him…? Was he afraid Tom would run away and never come back…?   
He really wanted to… But where would he go?

“Alles in Ordnung?” The driver asked concerned, obviously referring to Tom’s busted lip.

It was a simple phrase that meant something like ‘is everything ok’. Tom just nodded again, really not wanting to talk about it.

Luckily the driver knew where to take him, because all Tom had to do was pay him once they arrived at the hotel.

“Frohe Weihnachten,” the driver wished him a merry Christmas as he got out of the car.

“You too,” Tom whispered so quietly he was sure the man hadn’t been able to hear him, but he just didn’t have any strength to speak louder. His throat was bruised and his mouth was dry and bloody – not to mention the rest of him which ached so much he wished he could just pass out.

Getting up the stairs was difficult in his state, and by the time he finally arrived in his room, he was panting from exertion and pain.   
Not bothering to take his wet, dirty clothes off, he crawled into bed and shut his eyes tightly, trying to pretend that today had never happened. Trying to pretend that the only person he had in the world wasn’t some sick psychopath who enjoyed raping kids. And trying to pretend that every person he would ever fall in love with wouldn’t be appalled by him.

But of course all that was just make-believe, and the truth was that his life was meaningless, and no one would even notice if he was dead.

 


	34. Chapter 34

With a hearty yawn, Bill blinked into the winter sun shining in through his window. Finally he wasn't woken up by that horrible alarm he hated so much. Holidays were awesome like that.

Though he had half a mind of rolling over and going back to sleep, he decided to get up to try out all the new stuff he had gotten; plus the alarm showed 11:26 already, so he might as well do something productive – like playing videogames.  
He was a bit sad because his father had missed Christmas with them – again – but he had still gotten a bunch of cool things he wanted to try out, like the new laptop he had gotten from Gordon. Finally he had his own computer!

Excitedly, Bill pulled on his fluffy slippers and ran downstairs to search for all the presents he had left in the living room last night.

"Morning, kid!" Gordon greeted as he came into the living room. His stepfather was watching a report or other on TV while trying to fix the light from his bike; he was so not going to manage that, Bill shook his head mentally but didn't comment on it. Gordon wasn't very good at fixing stuff.

"Morning!" Bill said happily, grabbing the laptop that still hadn't been set up.

"Hey, it's really nice today, - don't you want to go outside a bit?" Gordon asked, jerking his head towards the window.

Bill gave him a dull look. "Playing outside in the freezing cold versus new laptop... Yeah, no." He shook his head.

Gordon laughed and rolled his eyes. "You know when I was your age-"

"You didn't have laptops and weren't tempted to do something much more fun than running around in the cold," Bill finished with a nod.

"Alright, alright!" Gordon threw his arms up in exasperation. "By the way, Georg called earlier and wants you to call him back."

"Oh..." Bill whined a bit, staring at his new laptop... But he really wanted to try it out. Like, right now.

But he also had to call Georg or he'd never hear the end of it... "Fine, fine. I'm calling him!" Bill grumbled, receiving a raised eyebrow and an amused smile from Gordon.

With a sigh, Bill picked up the phone and dialed Geo's number; he knew it off by heart anyway since he called him all the time.

"Hey Geo, what's up? What did you get for Christmas? I got a new laptop! And ugh, a tennis racquet from my mom, and a football. I know right, so wrong, but whatever. And my dad didn't show up again..." He finished his short rant earlier than planned, still feeling a bit down because of that.

After Geo told Bill that he had gotten a new computer game, they agreed that the guys would come over after lunch so they could test out Bill's new laptop and Georg's game.

"Since you will obviously spend the rest of the day in front of the computer, why don't you just go outside a bit now? We can play some soccer or something." Gordon tried again, but Bill gave him a critical look.

"Seriously? Soccer? Do you even know me?" He asked dully.

"Alright, no soccer... How about we build a friend for Frosty then?" Gordon chuckled.

"No, I'm way too lazy for physical labor today," Bill shook his head.

"Building a snowman isn't physical labor, Bill," Gordon said drily.

"You have your definition of physical labor, and I have mine." Bill insisted firmly, shaking his head.

"How about-"

"Ok fine! I'm going outside!" Bill grumbled, slouching out of the living room; obviously his stepdad wasn't going to give it a rest anyway.

A bit moodily, he pulled on his winter boots and coat, and then stalked out into the snow, still wearing his pajama bottoms.  
Alright, so maybe it really was a nice day. The sun was shining brightly and the entire yard glittered beautifully. But he would still rather check out his new laptop...

Taking a few deep breaths of the cool, crystal air, he walked over to Frosty the snowman; yes it wasn't a very inventive name, but neither Bill nor Gordon had been able to come up with anything better, so every year their snowmen were called Frostys.  
Maybe they should build another one, after all... It had been a lot of fun.

While Bill contemplated getting Gordon so they could build another snowman, he spotted a large dent in the snow-covered wall surrounding their yard. Smaller disturbances were normal – cats and birds and the likes, but this one was large, as if someone had tried to climb into their yard...

Suspicious and excited, he strolled over to the spot, searching for any footprints in the snow, but there were none. The only thing he found was a small, dark blue box with a silver ribbon on it and a gift card attached to it. Had someone thrown that into their yard...?

The card was small and very simple, with nothing but a few mistletoes and a red ribbon painted on it; it said _'Kiss me under the mistletoe'_. Bill giggled quietly before opening the card and gasping; he knew that writing! It was... that person's!  
Unlike usually, it was just a really short note, since more wouldn't have fit on the tiny card.

_Merry Christmas.  
And remember, to me you'll be... _

"I'll be what?" Bill asked the empty yard, turning the card over. "What will I be for you?!" But there was nothing else on the card and no one in the yard to answer that question.

"Ah!" Bill squeaked excitedly, ripping away the ribbon so he could open the small box. Inside was a small, square photo necklace that had the letter _T_ engraved in it; as he turned it over, it had another engraving on the back that read _Forever Sacred_.

For a few moments he just stood there, staring at the weird present. He had never gotten anything at all like this before, and his stomach was jumping up and down due to all the butterflies that seemed to be living there all of a sudden.

Of course he realized this was no ordinary present that you gave to a random friend – no, this was something very romantic that someone had put a lot of thought into... Now there was absolutely no more doubt: the letters were definitely meant for him.

With a delighted laugh, Bill ran towards the dent in the snow, only to pause abruptly; there was blood in the snow. It wasn't much, but various clean drops and some smeared into the snow that had been altered a lot; what had happened here last night...?

With a shiver, he remembered the cry they had heard last night; had someone been injured here...? Was it... that person?! Whoever it was that had brought him the gift? Was it their blood? Were they alright?  
Bill's mind was running rampant with horrifying things that could have happened to the love of his life right outside his house, without him having noticed it. Why hadn't he gone outside last night to look?!

"Bill, you're such an idiot! Oh my god!" He berated himself, trying to make sense of the messed up scene in the snow. On the outside of their yard, the entire snow and some plants had been trampled, indicating that someone had definitely been there recently – probably last night.  
On the top of the wall, left and right of the blood-smeared mess, were handprints.

Making sure not to touch the 'scene', Bill jumped over the short wall to see things from the outside. The entire snow had been disturbed, and there was a bit more blood here and there, but no large amounts that would indicate a serious injury.  
From this side, he was a bit higher up and could easily place his hand against the print in the snow; it was just a tiny bit bigger than his own. What in the world had happened here?!  
Completely nervous and excited, Bill ran back into the house – little blue box well hidden in his jacket.

"Gordon?!" Bill yelled as he ran into the house.

"Bill! Shoes!" Gordon groaned loudly as Bill trampled into the living room, getting snow and dirt all over the carpet.

"I need our camera!" Bill really didn't have time for shoes right now – he needed to document a crime scene.

"I'll get it, get back into the hall," Gordon ordered, pointing towards the door.

But instead of waiting by the door, Bill ran upstairs to his room to fetch the sample tubes from his chemistry set; if he was going to solve the crime of what had happened to the love of his life, it needed to be done properly.

"Bill!!" Simone screamed from downstairs. "You better not be up there with your boots still on!!"

Bill jumped back down the stairs, taking two at a time and nearly killing himself. "I don't have time right now! Gordon, where is the camera?!" Bill yelled hysterically as he ran past Simone who blinked after him.

"Bill get back here! You better clean this up!" She yelled after him, but Bill was already halfway through the yard, camera and sample tubes in hand.

Once back at the scene of the crime, Bill shot photos of everything that looked remotely relevant, including the two sets of footprints leading to- and away from the wall; there had obviously been two people here last night... One set slightly bigger than Bill's, and the other much bigger, probably a grown up's.

Once he was done with the pictures, he proceeded to secure the evidence. As carefully as possible, he scooped up the cleanest blood samples he could find, trying to get as little snow as possible, and then carefully screwed the plastic lid back on. He had two vials with snowy blood, and one with mostly clean, frozen drops.

Just as he thought he was done, he spotted something odd, mostly hidden by the thick bushes that surrounded the small area. Curiously he picked the object up, quickly recognizing it from countless games and movies; it was a bullet.

An odd twinge crossed his stomach. Up until now he hadn't truly thought that a crime had actually happened here, at least not a bad one - he had thought it was more something like the boy or girl who had dropped the present falling off the wall and injuring themselves, or maybe their father had dropped by and startled them - hit them at the most, for dropping off random presents at random people's houses – but a bullet... that was a whole other level.

Suddenly he felt a bit scared; had something truly happened to whoever wrote him letters?  
Quickly he grabbed all his stuff and headed back to the house, giving the surroundings a suspicious look, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Should he tell his parents? What if something had really happened and someone needed help? What if an actual crime had been committed last night...? The cry had sounded so horrified... And the thought that maybe that was from the person writing him those amazing letters, drove Bill crazy with worry.  
And of course Bill had a hyperactive imagination and was already coming up with all sorts of insane crimes of passion that could have happened.

"Bill! What are you doing? Clean this mess up!" Simone complained loudly as soon as Bill entered the house.

Unsure whether he should say something or not, Bill slowly cleaned up the huge mess he had made, and by the time he was done, lunch was ready.

"Had fun outside?" Gordon smiled as Bill finally sat down with his parents for lunch.

"About that..." He said slowly. "I think something might have happened out there last night..."

"Something like what?" Gordon asked while he began serving them.

"I don't know, but there's some blood and the snow is really messed up," Bill said thoughtfully.

"That was probably just a cat catching a bird or something. It happens in summer too, you just can't see it so well." Simone dismissed with a calm smile. "Anyway, I finally reached your father – he fell ill so he wasn't able to come, and he's really sorry. He'll come by tomorrow or something, when he's feeling a bit better."

"Oh, ok," Bill nodded, having completely forgotten about that already.

"When are the boys coming by, anyway?" Simone continued, but Bill was still a bit lost in thought.

"Oh um...Later... I don't know." Maybe he should tell the guys about it – surely they would take him more serious?

 


	35. Chapter 35

  
Tired and completely sore, Tom finally managed to open his eyes the next morning – or afternoon, he wasn't really sure. His entire body ached just like it always had after a night like that, and he felt like crying all over again; how could it be that he had believed to be so far away from that life, and now he was right back where he started? How could he have believed that Weiss would protect him from all this?

Trying not to break down, he slowly got up to remove the clothes he was still wearing from last night, and to inspect the damage done.   
Carefully he began removing the clothes, leaving them lying in a trail to the bathroom where he was too ashamed to look at his own reflection in the mirror; he knew that he shouldn't have let Weiss do what he did – he should have killed him, but he hadn't wanted to. And he didn't want to know either, because he knew he had no one else.

After removing all the clothes, he turned the shower on and waited until it was hot before stepping in. Warily, he tested the sore parts with his fingers, but nothing seemed too injured – he wasn't bleeding and it wasn't unbearably painful; at least Weiss hadn't been too brutal.

It took Tom over an hour before he finally stepped out of the shower, at which point the small bathroom was so steamy he couldn't breathe well anymore. He had been thinking of how things would carry on, but hadn't come to any conclusions; he had no idea how to face Weiss. Should he pretend nothing happened? Should he pretend he didn't care? Should he be mad...? Would it even make a difference?   
Probably not... Weiss had turned out to be a completely different person than Tom had thought, and at this point he wanted nothing to do with him; he knew he couldn't leave, but he would try to remain in the man's presence as little as possible, and try to avoid him. And he would make sure never to fall in love again so last night could never repeat itself.

Despite being a bit hungry, Tom returned to his bed after the shower, too scared to run into Weiss, should he leave the room. Tomorrow they would return to America, so obviously then they had to see each other, but until then he would try to stay away from him. Perhaps later in the afternoon he would try to sneak out to buy something from the store... But at the moment his fear was still greater than his hunger, so he remained inside.

~*~

"Bill! Your friends are here!" Simone called from downstairs, and Bill quickly hid the vials with blood under his pillows. It had already melted, and Bill had been sitting on his bed, staring at it as if it would answer what had happened out there. He'd contemplated showing the scene to his parents, but decided against it; parents had a weird ability to ruin everything.

A few moments later, his three friends walked into his room, chattering excitedly about Christmas, but they fell silent as they saw Bill's serious expression.

"Shut the door," Bill ordered, and Gustav who was standing nearest, closed it.

"What's going on?" Andreas asked a bit freaked out, looking around the circle, but the Gs shrugged, looking at Bill.

"I have to tell you guys something. Sit down," Bill said seriously, gestured at the carpet in front of his bed where his friends all sat down, and Bill climbed down from the bed to join them.

"Last night at dinner we heard this really horrible cry outside, and Gordon went to look, but since there was nothing there, we just carried on eating. And today I went outside, to the left of our yard where all the bushes and trees are, and all the snow there is really messed up and there's blood all over the place!" Bill gesticulated around, pulling the vials from under his pillows to show it to them. "And what's even worse, I found this!" He said dramatically, showing them the present he had found. "It's from...  _them_!"

"Them who?" Georg asked confused, taking the box and reading the little card.

"The person who left those letters in my locker!" Bill bounced excitedly before remember that that person was probably dead. "And what's worse, I found  _this_!" He said in a hushed voice, showing them the bullet he had found.

"Awesome! Is it real?" Andreas asked, now also really excited.

The three boys began obsessing over Bill's findings, coming up with all sorts of crazy things that could have happened.

"She's probably dead," Georg nodded, seriously.

"Don't be stupid. If she's dead, where's the body?" Gustav reasoned.

"The killer took it with him, duh!" Andreas countered.

"If the killer took the body, why didn't he clean up the scene of the crime, too?" Gustav asked skeptically.

"Guys!" Bill interrupted loudly. "No one's dead... Let's not forget who we're talking about here! We don't want them to be dead..."

"Who's  _T_ anyway?" Andreas asked slowly, inspecting the necklace.

"I don't know either..." Bill shook his head.

"Whoever she is, she's super creepy." Gustav muttered quietly.

"What?!" Bill squeaked. "Why?"

"Are you kidding me? So the letters in the locker were one thing, but she came over to your house? On Christmas Eve? Dude... she's stalking you." Gustav warned seriously.

Bill hadn't even viewed it from that perspective. "You think so?" He asked slowly, looking at the other two guys who nodded seriously, in agreement with Gustav.

"That's so romantic!" Bill squealed.

"That's not romantic, Bill! It's freaky!" Andreas shook his head.

"Shut it, Andi. So who do we know whose name starts with a T?" Bill asked excitedly while his friends exchanged a look.

"What about Theresa Neuherz from our class?" Gustav asked with a shrug.

"No, she's really dumb, she could never write that." Bill shook his head, determined; he didn't like Theresa at all and didn't want it to be her.

"Tristan Janser?" Georg asked slowly, earning himself a shocked stare from everyone.

"You think it's a guy?" Bill asked in disbelief; of course he had also thought about that possibility, and it didn't bother him at all, but he thought maybe his friends would be bothered by that thought.

"Why not?" Georg shrugged.

Andreas giggled quietly. "Yeah, it could totally be a guy. It would explain the really bad writing – I mean seriously, which girl do you know who has such a bad handwriting?"

They all laughed a bit; it was true that the writing was really bad, but Bill loved it anyway.

"It's not him though – he hates me." Bill shook his head; that guy was a total jerk to Bill.

"Maybe he's just mean to you because he secretly likes you!" Georg grinned, but Bill gave him a disapproving look.

"No. He's an idiot. It's not him." Of course Bill didn't know if it was him or not, he just really hoped it wasn't.

They went through every other T they could think of, both male and female, but none of them seemed to make any sense; they were all either too dumb, too bad at English, or they simply disliked Bill – or all of those. For each one, Bill could come up with an excuse as to why it wasn't him or her, mainly because he didn't want it to be any of them. However he was very surprised at the fact that his friends were so willing to accept that it may have been a guy who sent it; up until now they had always called her a girl (except for Bill in his head, who had always kept it gender-neutral, but his friends seemed to have been more comfortable thinking it was a girl). It made Bill feel very at ease for reasons he couldn't name right now.

"Seriously Bill, it's got to be one of them. You just don't like any of them so you keep saying it's not..." Gustav complained dully.

"It's not any of them. There have to be other Ts in our school," Bill insisted firmly.

"Maybe it's someone older..." Andreas mused slowly. "All the people we thought of were around our age, but maybe that's why they're way better at English and all that. It could be a really old person, like... 17 or something," He said, making a slightly horrified face.

The guys all exchanged weird looks; it would make sense. "That's even creepier. As if being stalked by someone our own age wasn't bad enough..." Gustav mumbled.

Bill didn't say anything; he actually really liked the idea of having someone stalking him – of course he had no idea what that really meant, but if someone took the time to stalk him, it made him feel special. And Bill really loved feeling special. Besides... no person who could write like that could have bad intentions, right? Of course not. Whoever wrote him those letters was beyond awesome and totally not creepy at all.

They carried on conversing and joking, eventually forgetting about the crime Bill had originally believed in, and concluded that whoever had brought him that present had probably just fallen off the ledge and injured themselves a bit.

It was only around dinner time, once the guys all went back home, that Bill thought about it again as he returned to his room and found the bullet lying on the carpet; if it had been nothing, what was a bullet doing there...?

"Bill! Dinner!" His mother called and Bill went downstairs to eat; he would think about it later.

They were about to start dinner when the doorbell suddenly rang.

"I'll get it!" Bill said cheerfully, hopping up and running to the door.

It was his father. And he looked absolutely terrible.

"Dad!" Bill said happily, though not as happy as usual because he was a bit concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Bill. Merry Christmas. Sorry I wasn't here yesterday." He said softly, giving Bill a feeble smile and handing him a present.

"Thanks," Bill smiled a bit, putting the present aside to give him a hug which Jörg returned wholeheartedly, unlike usually.

For a few moments they just stood in the hall while Jörg hugged him tighter than Bill could ever remember; he didn't mind at all, and let his father hold him. It was a rather rare thing for Jörg, since he was usually very reserved when it came to that and most physical contact only lasted a few seconds, but somehow today he seemed to need it. Was something wrong? Bill was really concerned; his father was usually not like this.

"Are you ok?" He whispered quietly.

His father nodded a bit, releasing him from the hug and clearing his throat. "I just had a rough night."

Bill nodded, unsure whether he should ask or not; he never actually spoke about serious things with his father so he wasn't sure what to do right now.

"Did you have a good Christmas?" Jörg asked a bit more casually, stepping out of his shoes and following Bill into the kitchen.

"Yes, it was great." Bill smiled, feeling very un-talkative at the moment; he had never seen his father like this and it unsettled him a bit.

"Jörg! Goodness you look terrible! How are you feeling?" Simone asked sympathetically, giving him a short hug that Jörg didn't return too enthusiastically.

"I've been better." Jörg smiled that weak smile from earlier.

"I'll make you some tea," Simone said firmly, shoving Jörg into a chair at the table where Bill joined him.

They had eaten in moderate silence, mostly because Bill didn't feel like chatting a lot; he was still concerned over what had happened last night, and now seeing his father like this only made it worse. He really wanted to do something to make him feel better because somehow he had a feeling his father's discomfort wasn't as physical as he wanted people to believe. Earlier he had said something about having had a bad cold and a fever, but Bill wasn't sure he believed him.

"Want to see all my presents?" Bill asked warily after they had finished eating.

"Of course," Jörg smiled unusually gently; Bill was barely used to smiles like those from his rather sarcastic, distant father.

They went upstairs where Bill regained a bit of his enthusiasm while he showed his father his new computer. Jörg nodded and smiled along with whatever Bill said, though Bill could easily see his mind was elsewhere; well at least he was trying.

"Something really weird happened yesterday," Bill finally decided to confide his worries in his father.

"What?" Jörg asked curiously.

"Well I'm not sure. But we heard someone screaming last night. And today I found blood and a bullet outside next to our yard and I think-"

"A bullet?" Jörg interrupted, looking a bit alarmed. Finally someone understood how serious this was!

"Yes!" Bill said seriously, taking the bullet out of the drawer where he had stored it, and showing it to his father.

 


	36. Chapter 36

Jörg cursed mentally as he took the bullet from Bill’s hands; how could he have been so careless as to leave it there last night?!

“Do you think it’s real?” Bill asked seriously; obviously he was very worried.

Pretending to inspect it, Jörg turned the bullet over in his hands and shook it a bit before pulling it out of the casing.

“It’s blank. See? There’s no powder in it and the primer is already used. It’s just an empty casing that someone put a bullet on to make it look real,” he assured his son with a casual shrug.

“Oh,” Bill said slowly, taking the bullet and casing from him. “So… no one could be injured with this?” He asked skeptically.

“No, it’s fake. Probably for decoration or something.” Jörg assured him. He really didn’t want Bill to worry, or think too much into what had happened out there yesterday.

“Oh…” Bill nodded with a smile, looking very relieved. “Do I have to bring it to the police?”

“No, it’s not real ammunition, you can keep it.” Police was the last thing Jörg needed involved in all this.

“Awesome,” Bill smiled again, putting the bullet back into the drawer from which he removed a small box, before sitting back down on the carpet with Jörg who was leaning against the bed. It had been a long time since it was just him and Bill alone in a room, actually talking normally; usually it was just Bill babbling senselessly and then running away again.

“I also found this outside,” Bill said slowly, handing Jörg the box with the gift tag. “I found it in our yard today in the morning, and I thought maybe the person who left it there had been injured because I also found a bit of blood in the snow.”

Jörg felt the hairs on his neck standing up. “I’m sure they are fine.” He tried to assure his son in what he hoped was a casual tone. The gift was unmistakably Tom’s; had he left it here last night after what had happened?

Nauseated, Jörg opened the box to reveal a small silver pendant with the letter _T_ engraved in the front and _Forever Sacred_ in the back. He felt as if someone would be trying to rip his heart out.

“I think it’s from the same person who’s been leaving letters in my locker. It’s the same handwriting, I think,” Bill said with the softest of smiles, retrieving the letters from his nightstand and showing them to Jörg for comparison.

“It looks the same, right?” Bill asked hopefully.

Jörg nodded, biting down on his tongue; he couldn’t say anything right now. Bill looked so happy. It made him sick. He couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he’d felt more jealous – even more than when he had first found out. Here was his only son, receiving love letters and romantic gifts from the person who owned Jörg’s heart and who despised him so deeply.

“Can you help me put it on?” Bill asked with an innocent smile, turning his back to Jörg and lifting his messy mane.

Shakily, Jörg placed the necklace around him, fumbling with the lock for a few moments before managing to steady his hands enough to actually be able to close it. Once the necklace was closed, he wrapped his arms around Bill from behind, holding him so tight he was afraid he might injure the fragile kid. At that moment he just couldn’t help himself; his emotions were a mixed jumble of guilt, pain, hatred and anger, and all directed at himself for what he had done to Tom – at Tom for what he had done him – and at Bill for being such a clueless, lucky idiot who had Tom’s heart without even knowing or appreciating it.

Hesitantly, Bill leaned into the embrace, hugging Jörg’s arms that were crossed over his chest.

~*~

The situation was more than unsettling for Bill; what was wrong with his father? His entire behavior today had been so odd, but even more so since they had come up to Bill’s room and Bill had showed him the bullet; why did his father even know stuff about bullets…? And Bill hadn’t missed the shocked look on his father’s face when Bill had mentioned the blood.

Suddenly his father released him, clearing his throat like earlier, and then smiling at him as Bill turned around.

“You should put a picture in it.” Jörg’s smile was so devastated it almost made Bill cringe; what was going on?

“I’m going to leave it empty until I find the person who gave it to me,” Bill said softly; why did he have the sickening feeling his father was somehow involved in this…?

Jörg gave a soft laugh that sounded more pained than anything else, and nodded gently. “Bill…” He said quietly, running his hand through Bill’s hair – something he barely ever did anymore. “You’re such a great kid. You’re smart, talented and beautiful - don’t ever let  that get to your head. Don’t become the typical, arrogant brat just because you look better than others. Always be nice to people, even if they don’t look as good as you, ok?” He said with a sad, weak smile.

Bill stared at him in confusion; his father had never said anything like that to him before. He nodded anyway, not knowing what to say or think.

Jörg also nodded, still with that heartbreaking expression that was tearing Bill apart. “There’s so much more to people than what initially meets the eye – don’t ever forget that, ok?”

Again, Bill nodded. “I won’t.” He said firmly, though he wasn’t at all certain what his father was talking about.

“And who knows,” Jörg added with a soft smile as he reached up to the pendant around Bill’s neck, tracing it softly with his fingers. “The person who gave you this necklace may deserve you more than any other. Regardless who they are, what they have done or what they look like.”

Bill’s heart raced faster with every word his father spoke. There was no way this whole thing was a coincidence: his father was definitely involved in this – did he know who it was? Did he know why there was blood outside? What about that terrifying cry?  
Bill stared intensely at him, trying to read him, and as their eyes met, he saw the guilt in them.

“What did you do?” Bill whispered horrified, and for a second Jörg closed his eyes.

“Who is _T_?” Bill asked just as quietly as before.

However, before his father chose to answer, Gordon suddenly opened the door, startling both of them.

“Hey you two, we’re about to watch ‘ _The Grinch’_! Are you coming?” Gordon grinned cheerfully.

“I have to go,” Jörg said immediately, getting up and walking away.

“Wait, dad!” Bill called after him, but Jörg was already halfway downstairs.

“Bill, is everything ok?” Gordon asked concerned as Bill ran down the stairs, into the hall where Jörg was putting on his shoes and coat.

“What happened last night?” Bill asked nervously. “Who is _T_?” He repeated the earlier question, a little more urgently.

With a shaky breath, Jörg stood in front of him, looking down at him with a sad expression. “If you really care, you’ll find out. But not today.” He said quietly before pulling Bill into another hug.

Bill really didn’t agree with that, but before he could argue, his father had released him, and Gordon and Simone had showed up to bid him farewell too, and with that, Jörg left.

It was only after his father had gone, and Bill had returned to his room, that he realized his father was returning to America, and it would probably be years before they saw each other again.

Not wishing to forget anything his father had said to him tonight, Bill wrote it all down in his lyrics notebook. He did care about what had happened last night, and he would find out who had given him that necklace. He would find out what his father had done, no matter how long it took or how much he had to search for those answers.

 

~*~

Just as planned, Tom remained in his room until the late evening at which point he only snuck out to grab a bite, and then returned to his room until the next morning when Weiss knocked on his door.

“We’re leaving.” The man’s gruff voice called in through the door.

Tom was already fully packed, knowing they would be leaving at some point today, and was sitting on his bed, waiting for the man to call him, all the while debating what he should do and how he should act.

Pulling together the little courage he had, he hauled his bags to the door and peeked out after unlocking it; the hall of the hotel was empty. Had Weiss already gone downstairs with his stuff?

Quickly he pulled his luggage down the stairs and outside to the car where, indeed, Weiss was already loading his own bags into the trunk.

Warily, Tom approached, but Weiss’s expression was iron as he loaded Tom’s bags, not dignifying him with a single glance; it was probably better that way.

In total silence, they got into the car and drove back the long way to the airport at which they had arrived less than a week earlier. Tom made sure not to look at the man next to him, and kept his eyes firmly set on the white landscape flying by, and since Weiss made no attempt to start a conversation of any kind either, their entire journey all the way to Colorado passed without a single word being spoken between them.

Even during Tom’s first few days here they had spoken more; back then it had been a few, scarce words and careful approaches, but now it was absolutely nothing. They simply ignored each other completely, up to the point it was almost painful to bear.

Just like every time they arrived at the ranch, Bill ran ahead of their car, racing up the icy road towards the house where he waited anxiously for Tom to get out of the car.  
However, unlike usually, Tom wasn’t up for great greetings today because his body still ached a bit, and he tried to calm the excited dog down, with little success. Bill barked excitedly and wagged his tail while Weiss unloaded the car and they carried their first bags inside just as Natalie came out of the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas, guys!” she said cheerfully, though her bright smile disappeared very quickly after she saw them.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly, looking back and forth between them.

“We had an exhausting trip, that’s all.” Weiss said shortly, walking past her with his bags, and disappearing upstairs without another word.

Natalie gave Tom an alarmed look, but he just nodded. “I’m going to lay down.” He said quietly, dragging his luggage up the stairs and locking himself in his room with Bill.  
Apparently by now the dog had also sensed that Tom wasn’t feeling too well, because he whined a bit, resting his head in Tom’s lap once he’d sat down on his bed, wondering again how their life would carry on from here.

~*~

Jörg sighed heavily as he locked the door to his bedroom and dropped the bags in the middle of the room, not caring to unpack them at the moment. Their journey back from Germany had been an absolute disaster; they hadn’t spoken a single word to each other and somewhere during customs, Jörg had accidentally brushed his arm against the boy’s, causing this one to jump aside as if he had struck him. It was a lot worse than when they had first met.

He had spent the past two days wondering how they could go on living together with this giant mistake between them - at first he had thought that maybe somehow they would just pretend it hadn’t happened, and go on as usual, but obviously that hadn’t happened. Once they had finally seen each other again, he had no idea what to say to the boy, and obviously Tom had nothing to say either, so they just ignored each other, and it killed him. He didn’t want this…He wanted… Well he didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but surely not this – of course not – he wanted to be on good terms with him, but how could they ever go back to that…? Should he apologize…? Would it even help?

A quiet knock got his attention, and he lifted his head off the pillow; if it was Natalie, he wanted her to go away, but what if it was Tom…? It probably wasn’t… But what if?!  
Once the second knock came, he slowly got up and opened the door. It was Natalie.

“What?” Jörg sighed.

“What’s going on?” Natalie asked carefully.

“That’s none of your concern. Go home.” He growled darkly; he hated it how Natalie had a habit of sticking her nose in other people’s business.

Obviously she had no intention to do so, because she crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave him a stern glare. “Mister Weiss,” she began, and Jörg rolled his eyes mentally, “I have been very understanding of whatever dubious things you and that boy are involved in, and I have never said anything about it despite it being very suspicious at times. However, if there is something going on that’s upsetting that boy, then it is very much my business, whether you’re willing to accept that or not, and I will not stand by to watch him being hurt – physically or otherwise. I don’t demand an explanation, but I do demand that you make it right.” She said firmly, glaring up at him.

His earlier anger had dissipated, and by now he was just tired. “I can’t,” Jörg said quietly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Natalie asked with a frown.

“He’s upset because of something I did, and I can’t make it right,” he mumbled desperately, really not wanting to talk about it, but emotionally too drained to argue with her.

“What did you do?” Natalie asked quietly.

Jörg stared down at her, well knowing it was something he couldn’t tell her; as understanding as she may be, she was also a mother and very protective of Tom. If she knew, she would probably report him to the police or something, and that would be the end of their lives.

“I don’t want to discuss that with you,” he said quietly, not knowing what else to say.

Natalie frowned with a nod. “Then don’t, but make it right. Whatever you did, apologize for it and hope he’s a better person than you.”

“An apology isn’t going to make it better.” Jörg sighed, shaking his head.

“An apology always makes things better. Even if he doesn’t forgive you, at least he will know you’re sorry, and that’s the first step. What he does with that apology is up to him, but if you’re actually sorry, then he deserves to know how you really feel.” There was an unusual glint in her eyes, as if she were hinting at something; was he imagining that…? Or did she really know more than she let him know?

“Are you trying to imply something with that?” Jörg asked drily, giving her a suspicious look.

“Should I be?” Natalie smiled gently before turning around and walking down the hall.

Jörg stared after her, frowning; what the hell was that?!

Should he really apologize? But what good would that do? It’s not like Tom would forgive him anyway…

 

 


	37. Chapter 37

 

The next week passed by with Tom completely ignoring, and being ignored by, Weiss. It was incredible how they managed to live almost an entire week in the same house and not speak a single word to each other. There had been various moments in which Tom had almost said something, but then remembered that they weren't speaking to each other, and since obviously Weiss wasn't compelled to break the silence either, they remained silent.

It wasn't until New Year's Eve, when Weiss suddenly knocked on Tom's door. At first he thought he had misheard, because he and Weiss were alone and the man hadn't knocked ever since... well, Germany, and with all the fireworks going on in the distance, Tom first thought it was nothing, until he knocked again.

Cautiously, Tom unlocked the door and opened it just a bit, to look outside; it was indeed Weiss standing there.

"Happy New Year," he said quietly, handing Tom a folded paper and leaving again, without awaiting a reply.

Tom watched him disappearing in his room, and a moment later heard the lock turning. Slowly he closed his own door again, before opening the paper; it was a handwritten letter of some kind. Just looking at all the writing made him nervous; why had Weiss suddenly written a letter? And such a long one at that...?

Anxiously, he sat down on the floor next to Bill and began reading.

_Dear Tom,_

_I have already written the beginning of this letter at least a hundred times, but no beginning ever comes across the way I wish it would. There are so many things I want to say, I don't even know where to begin._  
This letter is not designed to gain your forgiveness – I know apologies are designed to make the guilty party feel better about their transgressions rather than benefit those who've been wronged, which is why I'm not asking you to forgive me. I just want to tell you- I need to tell you, that I'm sorry about what happened in Germany. There are no words in any language that can describe how truly sorry I am for what I did, and I would gladly die to make you feel better.  
You have to know that it was never my intention to do something like that, and that I'm not some sick psychopath who enjoys hurting others. I know that's what you think of me, but it's not true, and I'd be happy to spend the rest of my life proving that.   
That night was nothing but a dreadful mistake that I regret more than anything else I've ever done. Not just because the guilt is killing me, but also because it took me a million light years away from you – even though being close to you is what I want more than anything.

Tom read over the last passage one more time, just to make sure he had read it correctly; what was that even supposed to mean...?

_Already for many months, you've haunted my thoughts in ways I can't explain, or even fully understand. I tried to ignore the way you make me feel, and it has always worked – I have always been able to keep away from you because I know how you feel about me. You feel exactly the way I have made you feel with countless lies over the past years. Lies that were designed to keep you from ever knowing what an incredible person you are. I thought if I could convince you that you weren't worth more than the life I can offer you, you would remain with me forever – I didn't realize that was the most certain way to lose you._

Again, Tom paused to read over it again. What in the world was Weiss saying here? He couldn't actually be saying what Tom thought he was saying, right? This entire letter made no sense, and caused his stomach to twist painfully.

_Hurting you was the last thing I wanted, but upon finding the letters in your room, I lost all sense and reason. For months, I've been dreaming of nothing but you – you who make me feel the same way that boy makes you feel – and when I discovered that your heart beats solely for him, I was overtaken by jealousy and grief because I realized that you would never be mine. Of course I knew that a future by your side was unlikely, but those letters confirmed it and tore me apart.  
The family in Germany was never a target- no one will hurt them and they are perfectly safe, I just used the boy to get to you. I had no intention to ever hurt them, and all bullets we had with us were blank. I just wanted to hurt you the way that you had unintentionally hurt me. It hadn't been my intention to force myself on you that night, that was just a spur of the moment – I was unable to resist the once in a lifetime chance to ever be with you, even if it wasn't at all in the way I ever wanted._

Unable to keep reading, Tom tossed the letter aside, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down. All this couldn't be true... Or could it? Was Weiss just messing around with him? But why would he do that...? What merits would he gain from it?  
But the man had always been so cruel to him... Could a person really be that way due to the fear of losing someone...?

"Bill," he whispered desperately, clawing his fingers into the dog's thick fur and pulling him into a tight hug. Tom couldn't remember ever having been so confused and torn in his life. Did Weiss really feel... the way Tom felt about that boy from Germany?

He tried to put himself in Weiss's place; what would he do if he found out that the boy's heart belonged to another?   
The only conclusion he came to was that he certainly wouldn't rape him. But maybe that was a bit different – Tom was generally not much into... anything like that. Unlike Weiss... Tom had to think of the countless women he had seen the man with... Had he ever thought of him during those nights?!

It took him a few minutes to calm down, before he managed to pick the letter up again.

 _Please believe that I never wanted to hurt you - I was just too selfish to stop myself from taking you. I have never felt this way about anyone before, and I was unable to cope with it, but I promise I will never do something like that ever again. I know you probably won't believe that, but I truly won't._  
All I ever wanted was to see you happy, but somehow I'm incapable of doing that for you. I'm well aware that this life is not one you wanted, and it doesn't always have to be this way – there is so much more and I would love to show it to you, even though I'm the last person you want to see it with.   
Your life will not always be what it is now, and soon enough you will be able to leave me. Until that day comes, I promise to remain as much out of your way as I can. However, should you ever need my help or support with something, I'll be right here, and willing to help you with anything I can.   
Regardless of everything I've ever done and told you, my heart will be yours. Always.

_Jörg_

Tom took another shaky breath as he placed the letter down, looking over at Bill who was lying on the floor next to him. He had no idea what to think of the confusing letter. Despite currently hating the man, he couldn't help but hope that what the letter said was true; not just because it meant the boy and his family were safe, but also because... Because what? Because Weiss harbored feelings for him? Was that even good?   
No, it was bad... It had led to the fiasco in Germany... But it also meant that there was someone in the world who cared about him. Of course it wasn't the person he wished would care, but at least someone did, and that meant that maybe Tom wasn't doomed to spend his entire life alone... If Weiss managed to feel this way about him, surely someone else would too, someday?

Unless of course the letter was a lie. Was it? But why would the man bother to lie about it? The entire thing made no sense at all.

Trying to understand the situation better, Tom read over it one more time.   
Most of the things written there made no sense; what did Weiss mean with it could be another way? What other way? Was Weiss planning on quitting their current job and doing something else? But what...?

~*~

Jörg paced up and down their living room. Initially he had wanted to remain locked in his room for the rest of the night, but he'd been so restless that he eventually came down to look for a drink. If his agitated mind wasn't enough to keep him from sleeping, the fireworks would manage to do the rest, so he had given up on sleep for that night, and instead walked up and down in front of the fireplace, thinking of all the possible reactions he could attain from Tom.

The most plausible one was none; they both had a tendency to ignore things, so chances were the boy wouldn't react at all. Another one was that he'd be angry and not believe a single word... And then of course there was still his pathetic fantasy in which Tom would forgive him and speak to him again, but that was rather unlikely. Well maybe not the speaking part, because he truly was hoping for that, but the forgiving part was rather unlikely...

The creaking of the stairs alerted him as Tom suddenly came down, looking rather stoic. Jörg quickly paused his pacing and tried to calm his raging heart down that was beating so loudly he was sure the boy would hear it across the room.

Once Tom reached the bottom of the stairs, he paused a few feet away and lifted the paper. "What is this?" He asked passively.

"The truth," Jörg said hesitantly, unsure what kind of an answer the boy wanted.

The boy crossed his arms defensively. "That's the truth?"

"Yes," Jörg said firmly.

"The truth is that you would die to gain my forgiveness?" Tom asked dubiously.

"Yes." At that moment he was willing to do anything for it.

"Great," Tom said in the same empty voice as before, and tossed a revolved over that landed at Jörg's feet.

For a few moments, Jörg was unable to breathe as the blood in his veins ran cold; was Tom serious?

"W-what?" he stuttered, staring at the boy in disbelief. It's not like Jörg wouldn't be willing to die for him, but... Tom wanted him to commit suicide? Just like that? Surely he had to be joking...

"So it wasn't the truth then," Tom said coldly.

"It was," Jörg said immediately. "I just... You want me to kill myself...?"

"You want my forgiveness?" Tom asked in return, not ever breaking eye contact; it was the first time the boy stared so defiantly at him.

"Me killing myself will make you feel better?" Jörg asked breathlessly.

"Yes," Tom said simply. "If you shoot yourself, I will forgive you all the terrible things you did to me. That's what you want, isn't it?"

David had been right: the boy was an absolute psychopath. What had he been thinking by letting someone like that into his life?! He'd turned a disturbed child into a coldblooded killer...

"Yes," he whispered softly, picking up the revolver. "That's what I want."

Even though handling guns was a daily thing for Jörg, the metal object in his hand suddenly felt completely alien; his hand was numb and his knees felt as if they were about to give way any second. He was paralyzed by fear, and the trigger suddenly seemed to have a million tons of weight in resistance.

"Then die for me." Tom whispered.

It was as if he were unaware of his own movements, and it were someone else holding the cold gun barrel against his temple.

Despite wanting to say a million things, he was unable to articulate any of them because none gave his feelings any justice at that moment; there was nothing left to say between them. Tom knew everything, and wanted him dead; it took away the little desire he had to live.  
With one last shuddery breath, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

 

 

 

 

 

\---------------------------------------------

Author's Notes

I know the scenes are rather short, but given that neither of them is that much into talking, there just wasn't all that much to say... I tried to change the way I wrote it, but no changes really made it better, so this was the original version... It was really hard to write, so please bear with me ._. 

Thanks for reading ^^ I hope you enjoyed. 

 


	38. Chapter 38

"I forgive you," Tom said softly and walked back up the stairs while Jörg sagged down to the floor, the gun falling out of his hand.

In disbelief, Jörg stared after the boy who soon disappeared. It was quite a while before he recovered from the shock, and removed the blank bullets from the revolver; they were the exact same ones he had used in Germany.

With a quiet groan, he leaned against the couch that was standing behind him, and rubbed his face with his hands that still felt somewhat numb. He felt sick; it's not like he hadn't ever had any near death experiences before, but never something as accelerating as this, and the whole situation combined with the adrenaline made him want to vomit.

~*~

Releasing a shaky breath, Tom locked the door to his room; would Weiss be mad at him? Making the man believe that he was about to die was not a very nice thing to do, Tom was well aware of that, but it had actually made him feel a lot better. Now he really knew that Weiss was honest with what he said, and it wasn't just empty talk to mend things between them; and of course, knowing that someone was willing to die for him was really incredible, no matter who it was.  
Of course he would much rather it were someone like that boy from Germany but… Obviously that would never happen…   
Tom had tried not to think about him since he knew they would never see each other again, but somehow the boy still managed to worm his way into Tom’s thoughts, making him lonelier than he had ever been before. Despite not ever wanting to fall in love again, he now yearned for something he couldn’t really name, and Weiss’ letter had somehow soothed that awful feeling a bit.   
What was happening to him…? Somehow lately his feelings seemed so much more complicated than they had been when he’d been young; back then he had disliked Weiss – pure and simple, but now… Despite what the he man did, next to the hatred he felt for him, there was something he couldn’t name.

As terrible as Christmas had been, Tom's resentment was slowly beginning to subdue; he had been abused so often, and never before had anyone regretted it even a little bit, so knowing that Weiss's apology was sincere made him feel a lot better. And knowing that the man wasn’t a total psychopath was also pretty nice, given he was the only person he really had in the world.

But what would happen tomorrow? Would Weiss beat him to death for the little revenge act? It would definitely be more his character than that letter…

 

~*~

It was nearly lunch by the time Jörg’s breakfast tea was finally done brewing, and he was so absent minded that he scalded his mouth on it; he was anxiously waiting for Tom to show up and unable to think of anything else. How would things be after yesterday?

With a quiet sigh, he sat down on the table and warmed his hands on the hot cup, waiting for it to be cool enough to drink, while he tried to think of what the best way to approach the boy was; something he had spent most of last thing with too, but hadn’t come up with any good scenarios.

Once his tea was finally drinkable, Tom suddenly showed up, pausing in the kitchen door for a second and giving him a hesitant glance before walking in fully.

“Good morning,” Jörg tried carefully, watching for the kid’s mood.

“Good morning,” Tom replied, looking a bit relieved and then pouring himself a cup of tea from the pot on the stove. Well at least they spoke a few words again – that was a good sign, right?

 

Obviously Tom had no desire to speak further of any past occurrences, because starting on the first of January, their life went back to almost exactly the way it had been when the boy had first arrived, with the exception that Jörg refrained from any harsh comments whatsoever. They only spoke what was absolutely necessary, and kept a polite, formal tone in all situations, acting as if they were coworkers who disliked each other slightly, but had to work together anyway and tried to make the best of it. While Natalie was around, they sometimes shared polite smiles for her sake, but the situations turned quite cold again once she was out of the room. And Jörg hated it even more than their initial relationship.

Even if Tom didn’t hold an eminent grudge against him, they were far from being anything close to friends, and Jörg was way too scared to try a friendly approach, no matter how much he wanted to. He had promised he would stay out of his way, and he had no intention to go against his word this time.

 

~*~

Their first assignment this year was in Nevada, a 12-hour drive from their home, which they spent in total silence, aside from the absolute necessary, like always. They drove through in one go, only stopping for lunch and dinner, and arrived in Henderson at around 10pm; Tom had spent most of his time studying because he had his first ever school exams, starting on the 6th of February and going until the 12th, for which he would have to fly to Cambridge, England. He was terribly nervous already, and had absolutely no idea what was expecting him; he wasn’t even sure what an exam was, he just knew he was supposed to study for it… Had he been on better terms with Weiss, he would have asked him about it, but as it were, he decided not to voice his concerns. Natalie had told him that exams were designed to test his knowledge on the subject, but Tom felt as if his knowledge were still far too little to be tested, so he was going crazy.

The hotel was similar to the ones they always stayed at, and Tom immediately locked himself in his room to study. They had four days during which they had to locate and eliminate their target, and Tom wanted to spend every free minute studying; it was the 25th of January today, so he had 12 days before he had to take his exams, and it was driving him crazy. He had 6 different exams; Math, Physics, English, Chemistry and Biology; most things of which he knew barely anything about, despite having spent two entire years studying them; it made him feel really dumb and incompetent whenever he thought about it.

Also, tomorrow was Weiss’ birthday, for which Tom hadn’t gotten him anything. He still had the present he had intended to give him for Christmas before… Well before all that stuff happened and they ended up not speaking to each other, and though he intended to give it to him for his birthday, he was rather reluctant about it. They still weren’t really on the best of terms, and he wasn’t sure if it was the right moment for birthday gifts.

No matter how hard he tried to pretend everything was fine between them, he was unable to act like before when they had almost been friends… Knowing that Weiss had feelings for him that ran even deeper than friendship had disturbed him a lot more than he had initially thought, and being in the man’s presence made him uncomfortable for many different reasons, most of which he couldn’t explain, but every time he saw him, the only thing he could think about was the letter; and that immediately led him to think of the boy in Germany, which kept him from being productive for the rest of the way. Somehow his life had turned into a total mess ever since Christmas; it was a nightmare.

 

The following morning, Tom reluctantly went down to breakfast at 7, unsure whether he should bring the man’s birthday up or not. He had left the present at home so he had nothing at all to give him, not even a card, so maybe he should just pretend he had forgotten.

“Good morning,” Weiss said quietly as they met in the small breakfast area with the lousy buffet.

“Good morning,” Tom replied in the same polite fashion, gabbing a few things from the large table before sitting down with Weiss who was sipping his tea in his usual fashion. “Happy birthday,” he finally mumbled.

Weiss looked a bit surprised and smiled one of those rare warm smiles that Tom hadn’t seen on him since Paris. “Thanks.”

That was their entire conversation during breakfast, after which they headed out to observe their target. It was cold and windy, and Tom couldn’t wait to go back inside to continue studying; he hated observation; it was boring, uncomfortable, and right now he really needed to go to the bathroom, but wasn’t allowed to move. And not to forget that it was freezing cold on the rooftop from which they observed the man’s sleazy apartment that looked like a meth lab.

~*~

Some way this was to spend his birthday… Jörg sighed internally as they finally left the rooftop shortly after 3pm. He was starving and freezing – sometimes he hated this job.

They went for an afternoon bite in a small diner, and later returned to the hotel with some take away for dinner; their target was easy so there wasn’t much of a reason to observe him any longer. The man seemed to run back and forth in his apartment most of the time, often pausing by the window to smoke where they would take him out on one of his cigarette breaks tomorrow.

Since Tom had disappeared into his room to study again, Jörg decided to go out; maybe he could find someone to share his birthday with… After all, he hadn’t gotten laid since… Germany. The thought still made his skin crawl, but he tried to ignore it; their next assignment was over a month away, so if he wanted to get some, it had to be now. And he really wanted to take his mind off that boy, and this was the only way he knew how.

 

~*~

Sleepily, Tom opened his eyes and blinked into the light that was still on. He had fallen asleep draped over his books and cuddled into his warm bed; he had crawled into bed right after getting home because he had been so cold, and it hadn’t taken long for him to fall asleep, but now he was woken up by the very familiar sound next to his room. He hated cheap hotels and their thin walls… Why did Weiss always have to sleep in the room right next to his?

It had actually been quite a while since the man’s bedpartners had woken him, and before he had always managed to ignore it, but right now it was driving him crazy. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he was incredibly upset and felt like shooting the woman whose muffled voice seeped through the wall. Why was Weiss doing that? Why couldn’t he just… not do that?!

As much as he tried to reason with himself, and tell himself that it was better Weiss be doing that to her than to him, he still couldn’t keep himself from being stunningly bothered by it.   
Was she a lot louder than the usual ones, or was that just his imagination all of a sudden? Either way, it was driving him insane.

~*~

Jörg growled internally, wishing the woman would keep her voice down before she woke Tom up. Not that he had ever cared before if that happened, but for some odd reason he now wished he had taken her elsewhere; for reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t want Tom knowing that he was with her… Of course he was being ridiculous – it’s not like Tom would even care, but it still bothered him.

Now that kid was even ruining the little sex life he had… Great. With a quiet groan, more in exasperation than in pleasure, he tried to concentrate on the task at hand and forget about his worries for once in his life, when suddenly the girl screamed hysterically, nearly kicking him in the face as she pushed him aside and pulled the covers up to her chest.

Alarmed, Jörg whipped around, wishing he had his gun close by, only to stare at Tom who stood in the door, glaring at them.

“What the hell is that?!” The girl screeched, pointing at Tom; Jörg wanted to snap at her, but he was too busy trying to make sense of the look in Tom’s eyes.

“Get out,” Tom said passively, staring at the girl with a frown.

“Excuse me? Who the hell are you?” She demanded angrily; Jörg knew he should do something, but he didn’t know what. The most logical thing would be to kick the boy out, but somehow that wasn’t something he wanted to do right now.

“Out. Now.” Tom said coldly, raising a gun at her.

Jörg sighed as the girl screamed, grabbed her things and ran out of the room; well that had been an absolute disaster…

“Let’s hope she doesn’t call the cops…” He mumbled drily once Tom finally lowered the gun. “What are you doing?”

“What are _you_ doing?” Tom asked angrily.

“Um… Well I was having sex a minute ago, now I’m just wondering why that stopped…” Jörg said drily, still utterly confused by Tom’s sudden interruption and his anger. The only time the kid had ever made his presence known, was on that first night when he’d thought Jörg was raping a girl, but ever since then he’d remained in his room and never shown a sign of even knowing what was going on next door.

What was that look in his eyes…? Betrayal…?

 


	39. Chapter 39

“Wait, Tom!” Jörg grabbed the covers and stumbled after the boy into the hall, right before he managed to close the door to his room.

“What?” Tom spat acidly.

“Is there a reason you interrupted me? Did something happen? Are you hurt?” Jörg was trying to come up with all plausible reasons the kid might have to storm in like that, but none seemed to make any sense.

“No,” Tom said harshly, about to slam the door in Jörg’s face, but he pushed it open, forcing himself into the room.

“No to what?” He asked confused; what was wrong with Tom all of a sudden? If he didn’t know better, he would have thought the boy was… jealous? Of what though? That couldn’t be… Or could it?

“I’m trying to sleep!” Tom snarled angrily, crossing his arms with a glare.

“I’m sorry that I woke you.” But that wasn’t the reason Tom was upset; he had probably been woken up by that very often, but never barged in randomly… with a gun.

“Whatever. I want to go back to sleep,” The boy said pointedly, placing the gun back under his pillow; seriously? He was more paranoid than Jörg…

“Do you not want me to sleep around?” Jörg asked quietly; could it really be that that’s why he was so upset…?

“I don’t give a shit what you do!” Tom almost yelled.

So that was a ‘No’ then. Jörg couldn’t remember ever having seen him so angry, or using that kind of language that was usually not part of his vocabulary. Tom was jealous… But that was crazy – he hated him… Didn’t he?

~*~

Tom was so angry he felt like killing someone, though he didn’t know why; he didn’t care if Weiss brought people to his bed or not, right? Why would he care about that? It was none of his business…

“Okay. I won’t anymore,” Weiss said with a soft smile and then turned around to walk away, quietly closing the door on his way out.

Tom stared after him in disbelief; what the hell did that mean? And why was Weiss not upset about the interruption?   
Earlier, when he had followed him into the room, Tom thought the man would kill him for having ruined his night, but somehow he didn’t even look upset. Unlike Tom who had all stages of anger and confusion.

With a pathetic mewl, he dropped down on his bed and buried his face in his pillows; what was going on? He felt terrible; he was sad and angry, though unable to explain why. Where was Bill when he needed someone to cuddle?

His own feelings, and Weiss’ reaction, were more than puzzling, but no matter how much he tried to find a comforting thought, none seemed to come. His entire mind was taken over by memories of Christmas and New Year’s, both good and bad, but none made any sense to him.  
Though used to being alone, right now he hated it more than usual, and wished there was someone who would understand him, even though he couldn’t even understand himself.   
Especially because the only thing that seemed to comfort him, was Weiss’ last sentence earlier; would he really? And why did Tom even care about that?

~*~

Unable to fall asleep, Jörg lay awake most of the night, staring up at the dark ceiling while he tried to make sense of Tom’s behavior that had obviously somehow been affected by the letter – but how?   
He had seemed so upset earlier despite nothing out of the ordinary happening, which meant something was definitely different between them, even though he hadn’t noticed it earlier – at least not in that sense. He had believed that Tom would just rather avoid him because he was afraid of him, or because he felt uncomfortable due to what Jörg had written in the letter, but tonight there was something entirely different… Maybe time would tell.

 

They managed to eliminate their target earlier than expected and soon returned back home without ever mentioning the night of his birthday. On numerous occasions, he had wanted to bring it up but had been too scared to mess it up even more, so they refrained from speaking of it; generally it was a habit of theirs to simply ignore everything and not speak of whatever was happening.

~*~

Tired from the long drive, Tom dragged himself back up the stairs once they were finally back at home; though it had been a very easy job, he had barely gotten any sleep, and the little sleep he had managed to get had been restless and plagued by disturbing dreams about death, Weiss and the boy from Germany; usually one or both of them died.   
Unfortunately that had also led to him being very distracted and unable to concentrate on learning, which stressed him out even more. He hoped now that they were back home, he’d be able to focus a bit better.

 

The following evening, Tom decided to give Weiss the present he had been keeping for months already, and had intended to give to him on Christmas.

As ever, Weiss was fixing a quick dinner for them when Tom came downstairs after having spent the entire afternoon in his room, trying to study.

Weiss raised an eyebrow as he saw the present that Tom held out to him. “I was going to give it to you for Christmas but...” Tom said awkwardly, trying to justify the Christmas wrapping.

“Yeah.” Weiss nodded. “Thanks,” he said quietly, taking the package with a gentle smile as they sat down to eat.

While Tom began to eat, Weiss removed the wrapping to reveal the bayonet inside it; Tom knew he wasn’t very inventive when it came to presents, but what was he supposed to give a man like that? Weiss had no real interests so it was very hard to find something suitable.

“Wow... Thank you,” Weiss said slowly, inspecting the knife and removing it from the sheath to reveal the German engraving on it. “This is… an SS bayonet,” He said flatly.

“You don’t like it?” Tom asked meekly.

“No, I-I like it,” Weiss said quickly, nodding. “It’s great. Just don’t tell anyone I have it or people might get the wrong impression.” He chuckled a bit.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked confused.

“Well the guys from the SS weren’t really known to be very nice people. You read about Nazis and all that in books, didn’t you?”

“Oh. Yeah, I read about it. But it’s just a bayonet – it doesn’t make you related to any of that, right? It’s just a collector’s item, isn’t it?” Tom asked slowly.

“Yeah, try telling someone else that.” Weiss laughed quietly. “But it definitely has a lot of historical value – thank you.”

“Is it bad because of that cross?” Tom asked carefully; they still weren’t really on talking basis, and this topic also wasn’t one he was all that interested in, but somehow the situation presented itself so well to start talking again.

“Yeah, it’s a symbol that’s rather frowned upon because it’s always associated with Nazis. But of course you can find it on all sorts of old militaria items – especially rifles and bayonets that come from Germany or Austria. Many people collect them together with all other sorts of weaponry, so for them – or us in this case – it doesn’t have that meaning at all… But explaining that to outsiders is somewhat difficult, so it’s best to just avoid others knowing about it altogether,” Weiss explained patiently; Tom wasn’t sure if he had ever heard the man explaining something so nicely before.

“Oh… I’ll keep it in mind.” Not that he had anyone to talk to about it. However, the conversation was almost like one they could have had a few weeks ago, and Tom wished he would know what else to say to keep the conversation going.

“How’s your studies coming?”

Maybe Weiss also wanted to talk again…?

“Um… not as good as I was hoping,” Tom said slowly, unsure if he wanted to be on friendly ground again or not; part of him really wanted to be angry, but the other part was just lonely and sad, and wanted someone to talk to.

“Natalie said you were doing great. You’re not confident about it?” Weiss asked casually.

“I don’t know. I didn’t really understand what an exam is…” Tom mumbled sheepishly; he had read about it, but it had just sounded complicated and confusing because according to the dictionary, an exam was ‘an official test that shows your knowledge or ability in a particular subject.’ And seriously, what did that even mean?

“It’s not a big deal at all – they just want to know how you’re progressing. You’ll get a sheet of paper with a bunch of questions that you just answer as best as you can, and if there is a question you don’t know the answer to, you leave it out and go to the next one. You need a certain amount of questions to be correct in order to be positive on the exam, but if you don’t manage to write most answers correctly, it’s no big deal – you can repeat the exam later on again anyway. Don’t stress about it,” Weiss explained in an unusually friendly manner that made Tom feel a lot more at ease; Natalie had explained it way more dramatically: exams were super important and he needed to study a ton for them.

“Oh, all right… Thank you.” Tom nodded gratefully; he’d been so nervous about it that he was hardly able to sleep anymore. “But if I don’t pass the exam… we would have to go back to England to do it again later on?” How was that not a big deal though?

“Yeah, but we’re going there for all your future exams anyway, so if you have to repeat a few, it really doesn’t matter.” Weiss shrugged as they finished their meal. “Just study as much as you can, but don’t stress it – it’s just school.”

“Natalie said school is really important…” Tom argued; he really wanted a good education because he hoped that one day it would help him out of the life they had now.

“It is, but not important enough for you to be all stressed about it, especially because you’re actually quite good – according to what Natalie said. Just do your best.”

“Were you good at school?” Tom asked before really thinking about it; he had never actually asked the man anything about his personal life before, but somehow he was being so nice right now that Tom wanted to take advantage of the situation. After all, words like ‘Just do your best’ weren’t really ones he had ever heard from the over-demanding man before.

Weiss gave him an odd glance as they rinsed the dished. “No. I was always bad at school,” He finally said with a small smile.

“How come?” Was he being too nosy?

“Because I wasn’t interested in it, nor was anyone else I knew. School was just an obligation that I hated and couldn’t wait to get out of,” The man said quietly, obviously not very happy about his time there.

“What did you do after school?”

~*~

Jörg almost laughed; what was up with Tom today? Not that it bothered him, but it was rather out of the ordinary for him to be making conversation like this. It was great.

“My father was a small-time drug dealer and ever since I was a kid he used me as a mule, which got me involved with a certain kind of crowd… Eventually that resulted in me having this job here, but I never acquired any official education – everything I know is from acquaintances and whatever I learned along the way.” That was actually a lot more personal than he thought it would be, but since the kid had already asked…

“Oh.” The boy nodded, drying the clean dishes and putting them away. Somehow this conversation was very awkward…

“What do your parents do?” Jörg asked as casually as possible; the kid had never spoken about his past before, and maybe he was prying too much, but then again… Tom had started it.

“They were particle physicists and worked in Tsukuba, at the KEK research center,” Tom mumbled quietly, looking a bit uncomfortable. Obviously they came from very different backgrounds… And yet they were both stuck here in the same shitty life.

“Oh. Did they pass away?” Jörg asked, just as quietly.

The boy nodded, staring at the plate in his hands.

“I’m sorry.” Condoling people had never been Jörg’s strength.

“Are your parents still alive?” Tom asked tentatively, lifting his head a bit to give him an uncertain glance.

“No.” It wasn’t entirely true, but he didn’t want to share this right now.

“Oh… Sorry,” The boy muttered. “How did that happen?”

Jörg considered his options right now; the wise thing would be to lie – the way he usually did when someone asked him about it – though he really didn’t to. On the other hand… The truth was not one he wanted to share with the boy. “My father was murdered and my mother died in an accident when I was just a child.” The only person he had ever told the truth, had been David. Someday he would share it with Tom, but not today.

~*~

Tom felt really bad for him, but didn’t know what to say. Maybe he and Weiss had something in common? They had both lost their parents at a young age… What might the man’s childhood have been like? Had he also been alone?

“How did your parents pass away?” Weiss asked softly, giving him a sad look; these were all looks Tom had never seen on him before. Maybe the man wasn’t as malicious as Tom had always believed him to be… Maybe he was just as hurt and lonely as Tom was… Maybe in a few years, Tom would also be as bitter and nasty as Weiss.

“It was an accident,” Tom finally mumbled, unable to tell the truth. It had been years ago, but he had never spoken to anyone, and wasn’t sure if he was ready for it now either.

Apparently Weiss noticed, because he just nodded and smiled a bit before they went upstairs to their respective rooms.

It was the first time they had a personal conversation like this; whatever this new direction of their relationship was, maybe it wasn’t as bad as he had feared. Perhaps they really could become friends someday.  
Tom really wanted to, despite everything that had happened between them. Weiss seemed to actually understand him on some weird level.


	40. Chapter 40

 

With a content sigh, Bill dropped down on the couch in their hotel in Hamburg, grinning up at the ceiling like an idiot. They had just visited their first professional studio at which they would now start recording a real album; not a silly one like they had made themselves a few years ago, but an actual, professional one! Bill could barely believe it. His life was finally going somewhere.   
Of course they were far from actually releasing something or having a record deal, but at least things were finally moving.

While the other three members of their band ordered pizza, Bill was simply basking in the amazingness of the situation, dreaming away of how things would progress from now on; in his fantasy, by this time next year they would be world famous - of course that was probably not going to go like that, but he dreamt of it anyway.

Absent-mindedly, he traces his fingers over the pendent hanging around his neck; that was also part of his fantasies: some day, when he was really rich and famous, he would find the person who owned his heart, and they would live happily ever after. Or something like that.

"Hey Bill! You want some pizza?" Georg yelled from the small kitchen in their suite.

Excitedly, Bill ran over to his friends, and they chattered the evening away, planning and fantasizing about their bright future, with no clue yet as to how difficult the music business actually was.

~*~

"Don't be nervous, it'll be fine," Weiss said quietly as they got out of the cab in front of the large, old building in which the exams were held. They had arrived yesterday in the morning, and Tom had spent most of the time studying; he was exhausted and a nervous wreck because he had barely managed to get any sleep last night. His first exam was in math, and though he didn't think he was that bad at it, now he felt like dying.

"Now remember: just do whatever the professor says, and don't sweat it. I'll see you in two hours then, ok?" Weiss smiled that warm smile that had become more frequent lately, and that always managed to make Tom feel better.

"Ok," he muttered quietly.

"Good luck." The man smiled once more and then Tom walked towards the large doors together with countless other students.

The building was beautiful – like the ones he had seen on pictures – and looked majestic; almost like a castle of some kind. Warily, he looked back at Weiss who was still standing on the sidewalk of the street and smiled at him with an encouraging nod; swallowing nervously, Tom smiled back a bit and then walked through the doors into the inside of the building that was just as extraordinary as the outside.   
Luckily there were signs all over the place that indicated which way he had to go to the exam room, and he slowly followed the stream of students that all seemed to be headed in the same direction, though eventually began splitting up into different rooms that all had different numbers on them.

Trying to find the correct room, he checked his registration papers for his exam room: 6YSB9N.   
The room with the number 6YSB9N was quite small, fitting a few dozen people, some of which were already seated and looked over at him as he stood awkwardly in the doorway for a few moments, unsure what to do; should he just walk in and sit somewhere? Was there a seating order of some kind? 

Before he could make up his mind, the door opened and a girl around his age walked in, sat down at random and took out her pencil case; maybe he should just do the same thing. Warily, he walked to the back of the class and sat in the left corner, trying to avoid everyone as much as possible.   
Some of the students were talking quietly, though most just sat there without doing anything at all while more students kept coming in until the room was almost full.

Since he had no idea what to do, Tom searched for one of the pens he had stuffed into his bag and then waited, though he had no idea for what. The exam was meant to start at 9, and now it was 8:52; with every passing minute, he got more and more nervous.

Once it was finally 8:55, a woman came in with a pile of papers and stood in front of the class. "Hello everyone, my name is Mrs. Arlington, and I'll be supervising your test." She spoke in a funny accent that Tom had only heard in England so far, and then handed the pile of papers to the boy nearest to her.

"Please hand these out to the entire class. I'd like you all to keep the papers closed until 9 o'clock when we will begin writing. You then have two hours to complete all the questions, and remember: no talking!" She said with a cheerful smile.

The boy handed each student a small pile of papers that was stapled together, and all students left it lying on their desk until everyone had one. Tom was one of the last to receive one since he was sitting in the back. The first page had the exam number on it and a place where he could fill in his name.

As the clock indicated 9, the woman nodded with another smile. "You may now begin." And with that, she sat down at the desk while everyone began looking over their papers.

The first point was an equation; he could do that, right?

~*~

Jörg lazily sipped his tea while he watched the traffic outside on the street; unlike during his own exams in school, he was actually nervous now. Not because he was worried about the boy's grades, but more because of what would happen to him if he failed the exam; school was far too important to Tom, and Jörg was afraid that if he failed the exam, it would discourage him too much. He had no idea what Tom's educational progress was so it was impossible to evaluate the situation, but it wouldn't be a big surprise if he failed various of the exams, given his background.

While he waited in the small café opposite the school building, he read over the newspaper that hosted an advertisement for a musical currently playing London. Though London was more than an hour away from here, maybe they should visit it once all the exams were over, just to take their mind off things. Their last visit to the theatre had been a disaster, but maybe now it would be better... And he really wanted to cheer Tom up... Was it too much? Would Tom even want to go? Would he take it the wrong way? Which was the wrong way anyway? And why did he suddenly have the crazy desire to make him happy...? Not that that was such a recent thing, but now it was very...active. The last time he had actually done activities such as going to the theatre with someone, had been with Simone all those years ago...

But of course with Tom it was different; they would just go there because Tom liked it. It's not like that was a date or anything, right? No, of course not, that was ridiculous. Tom was just really stressed due to all his exams, he loved the theatre and they were close to London; that didn't mean anything. It was just random. Yes.

Already ten minutes before the exam was over, Jörg found himself back at the entrance gates of the building, anxiously waiting for the boy to finally be done with his exam. If he had cared about his grades half as much as he cared about Tom's, maybe his current life would be different. He wouldn't have to kill people... Of course he'd probably also have a lot less money, but at least it would be more moral... And he would have to work a 40-hour week... Yeah, no.

Many students of all ages and races walked in and out of the building, some giving him a curious look and making him even more anxious; it was moments like these when he really yearned for a cigarette – a habit he had kicked years ago. Though in the past two years, he had nearly picked it up again, especially after last Christmas.

Finally, after Jörg had nearly began pacing up and down the street, the boy finally came out, looking rather stoic.

"How'd it go?" Jörg asked calmly, more interested in Tom's wellbeing, than how the exam had gone. The boy had been such a nervous wreck over the past two past weeks, maybe now he was feeling better after realizing that exams weren't such a big deal.

"Good, I think... I missed two questions, and I wasn't sure about a few others... I don't know." By the end of the sentence, Tom had become far more insecure than two seconds earlier.

"It'll be fine. Don't worry about it. We'll find out in a few weeks when they mail the results," Jörg tried to encourage him, but Tom just nodded, looking exhausted.

"Shall we go somewhere for an early lunch? There's a park nearby with a bunch of small restaurants and stuff." Jörg had no idea why he was trying so desperately to make the kid feel good - it's not like anything bad had happened... But Tom looked so stressed, and he hated seeing him anxious.

"But I need to study for the next exam – it's the day after tomorrow. Chemistry," Tom argued hesitantly.

"You just got out of an exam – you need to clear your head and do something not education related," Jörg assured him, steering them in the general direction of the park.

"I don't think that's going to help me for the exam though..." The boy mumbled absently.

"Yes it is, trust me," Jörg insisted, "It will relax you and make learning easier. You can't study all the time – that's not good."

~*~

Tom gave the man a skeptical look; according to what Natalie had said, he could never study too much. Though maybe a little break would be ok... Just to take his mind off numbers and formulas for a few hours. That, and Weiss was being unusually nice again – almost like in Paris way back when – so they might as well put the man's good mood to use. Was it because they were abroad? Was Weiss generally happier while away from home? Or at least around Europe?   
Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Either way, the man's advice had really worked, and for the first time in various weeks, Tom finally managed to sleep well the following night. Of course knowing that exams weren't as dangerous and tragic as he had initially feared, was also contributing greatly to that.

The following few days passed by rather quickly and Tom had a very positive feeling about all his exams except one: physics. Somehow he hadn't understood it all, lacked background information, or simply studied the wrong things; whatever had happened, he hadn't gotten nearly enough for it to be satisfactory, which depressed him to no end. It had been the last of his exams for this semester and though having studied so much for it, it had gone completely wrong; Tom was devastated. The exam had been yesterday, and he still wasn't even close to over it.

"Are you still hung up on that?" Weiss asked as Tom joined him for breakfast, obviously still looking rather bleak.

He just mumbled incoherently and nodded, not knowing what to say.

"Why don't we go to London today? Our flight leaves tomorrow evening, so we can spend today and tomorrow there." Weiss said casually as they piled their plates at the breakfast buffet.

"For what?" Tom asked pessimistically; he didn't care what they did. He wanted to mope around and be angry at himself for having messed it up.

"London is great. We could go to the theatre or something." The man shrugged, and Tom lifted his head curiously.

"Theatre?" Was Weiss just trying to make him feel better? The way he had done in Paris...?

"Yeah, the theatre in London is really good – we should check it out. What do you say?"

Why was Weiss being so crazy friendly? Not that Tom minded, of course... But it was still unusual. There was something really amazing in the fact that someone cared enough about him to bother. "I'd like that." He smiled hesitantly.


	41. Chapter 41

Excitedly, Tom watched through the car window as London slowly drifted by outside. The buildings were all ones he had seen on pictures, including the London Bridge, the Palace of Westminster together with the Big Ben, and the London Eye that he had always dreamt of riding.

“Um…” Tom suddenly had the urge to use the man’s name when addressing him, but decided against it; he was being bold enough as it were. “Can we go on that?” He asked quietly, pointing at the giant Ferris wheel. Under normal circumstances, he would have never asked, but Weiss had been so friendly all day already.

“Sure,” Weiss said with a casual shrug, looking up at the wheel. “How about after we get lunch?”

They were headed to their hotel and still hadn’t had lunch, so Tom wasn’t opposed to the idea; he hadn’t had a lot of breakfast so he was pretty hungry by now.

“I was thinking we should go to Pizza Hut,” Weiss continued. “What do you think?”

“Isn’t that American?” Tom had never tried it, but he had seen the restaurants in America various times.

“Yes, but British food sucks, so we might as well eat something normal.” Weiss laughed an unusually nice laugh.

Tom hadn’t noticed that British food wasn’t good, but if the man wanted to go to Pizza Hut, he would go along; he had never tried pizza before. “Sure.” He agreed with a nod; hopefully such a thing as vegetarian pizza existed…

 

The hotel where they stayed was unusually nice, and even had a registration that required Weiss ID; something most places they stayed at didn’t. Maybe Weiss didn’t care since they weren’t here to work… It was just like Paris…

After the receptionist handed them two key cards, they took the elevator to the 8th floor where their suite was. It was quite big and included a small kitchen and living room, as well as two separate bedrooms; very fancy.  
Tom gave Weiss a suspicious look; sometimes he had the feeling the man owned more money than he let on. Not that he ever said they had financial problems – after all, their life in America was very comfortable – but given they always stayed in such cheap, awful places, Tom had somehow assumed it was because anything else would be too expensive… Or maybe it really was because they had to keep a low profile and cheap places didn’t require a good registration; most just asked you to fill out a small form with your name and address – something Weiss always faked, but no one ever bothered to check.

“Ready for pizza?” Weiss came into his room a few minutes later, just as Tom finished unpacking his most important things.

Grabbing his jacket, he followed the man out of the room and to the elevators.

“Have you ever tried pizza?” Weiss asked casually, apparently making idle small talk; something they barely ever did.

Tom shook his head as they got into the elevator that took them down to the lobby.

“So your first pizza will be British rather than American… That’s so wrong.” Weiss chuckled a bit.

“Isn’t pizza originally Italian though?” Tom asked slowly; he thought he had heard that somewhere.

“Oh, yeah… But… Well… It’s very traditionally American now. Pizza Hut doesn’t make Italian pizza… They make American pizza.” The man shrugged with an amused smile while they headed down to the car.

“Have you ever tried it in Italy?” Tom had no idea why he was even talking about this; he didn’t care about pizza at all, but somehow he wanted to talk to Weiss. It was weird.

“Yeah, once, but it was really bad. I think I chose a bad restaurant. Compared to the one I ate there, I prefer Pizza Hut.” Weiss shook his head with an amused expression.

“Is Italy nice?” Again he asked about things that he didn’t really care about; not that he wasn’t interested in visiting Italy – sure, but not more than any other place.

“Hm, yeah…” The man shrugged. “Some places are very nice, and some food is great, but only if you get away from the tourist regions because there it’s not anything special. Maybe we should go sometime.” He turned his head a bit to give him a smile before returning his view to the road; why was Weiss suddenly so much into doing things that Tom wanted to do? Was that somehow related to the things he had written in that letter…?

“Yeah, we should.” Tom agreed quietly; what was going on? Lately their relationship had been so different – especially since they came to England. Tom liked it. Except he was scared of what would happen once they returned to America; would Weiss go back to being the way he had been before? Tom really wished he wouldn’t… He wanted the man to be like he was now… The way he had been in that letter.   
If he had always been that way, none of the bad things between them would have ever happened. Why couldn’t he always be attentive and friendly like now? What was wrong with grown-ups? Why couldn’t they just be honest?

“Here we are.” Weiss announced as they parked down the street from the restaurant; Tom still wasn’t used to the cars all driving on the wrong side, and wondered for the tenth time how Weiss was dealing with this, being the one driving.

In silence, they went into the restaurant that smelled surprisingly good, and sat down in the very back, the way they usually did; even when not on the job, Weiss seemed to avoid crowds. Not that Tom minded – he hated being surrounded by people – but he couldn’t help but notice right now; maybe Weiss felt the same way…

“What can I get you to drink?” The waitress asked as she handed them both a menu.

Weiss ordered mineral water – like always – and Tom went with orange juice, also like always.

“This place is really great because you can make your own pizza. First you choose the type of dough you want – I would suggest the pan pizza – and then you add whatever ingredients you want from this list.” Weiss explained, pointing at the things he meant on the menu.

Tom was thrilled; he had always wanted to be able to put together his own food in a restaurant. Now he could finally leave out all the stuff he didn’t like.   
There was quite a lot to choose from, but by the time the lady returned with their drinks, he had already made up his mind.

“Ready to order?” Weiss asked with a faint smile.

Tom nodded, not wanting to order first because he wasn’t sure how one placed an order here. Apparently Weiss had noticed because he gave a small nod and then looked over at their waitress.

“I’d like a personal pan pizza with mushrooms, mozzarella, tomatoes and salami.” Weiss ordered before looking over at Tom with an encouraging smile; no matter how often they went to restaurants, it always made him feel awkward because everyone was looking at him, expecting him to say something.

“Um…” he muttered awkwardly. “I’d also like that… but with mozzarella, peppers, mushrooms and olives,” he rambled quickly before he got too intimidated by the woman who was watching him and writing down everything he said.

Once she was gone, Tom sighed quietly in relief; he hated restaurants. Well no, he really liked them because it was awesome that they got food which they didn’t have to cook themselves and didn’t have to do the dishes later, but the whole ordering process was terrible every time.

“So, theatre tonight?” Weiss asked with another one of those gentle smiles; why was he so cheerful? It was almost creepy.

“What are they playing?” It wasn’t like he cared – he’d love to see anything, but he might as well ask.

“I thought we could go see the Lion King. It’s supposed to be pretty good.” Weiss shrugged, taking a sip from his water.

“What’s that about?” Tom had never heard of it.

“It’s a musical from a children’s movie. It’s about a lion who… does something,” Weiss said slowly, obviously having no idea what it was about either. “And there’s also a pig and some other little thing… They help him get his kingdom back or something.”

Tom gave him a skeptical look. “It’s about talking animals?” He asked, slightly repulsed by the ridiculous idea.

“Yeah…” Weiss said with a shrug. “It’s supposed to be fun though.”

“Right,” Tom said drily; he couldn’t believe the man was suggesting they go see a play for little kids, with talking animals no less… That sounded so stupid. Oh well… Whatever. He would sit through it and pretend that he liked it anyway, for Weiss’ sake. Who knew… maybe Weiss liked kid’s stories with talking animals…

“But there’s no real animals in it, right?” Tom asked a moment later; he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the idea of watching animals being forced to perform for people’s entertainment.

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just people in costumes.” Weiss assured him immediately, though people in animal costumes didn’t really make Tom feel a lot better; that couldn’t possibly be good.

Weiss carried on telling him a bit of the story while they waited for their food; something about an evil, power-hungry uncle and a young lion that ran away into a forest where he was raised by a gay pig and his lover – who was an undefined animal – until his childhood friend came back to look for him and take him back to their old home where he killed his uncle. It sounded rather sketchy, and not at all like something Tom was interested in watching, but whatever.

“Enjoy your meal!” The waitress said as she placed their food on the table before leaving again.

Tom had noticed earlier that various people in here ate with their hands, and now Weiss was doing the same thing… That was so gross. Over the past two years, he had acquired good table manners, so why were they eating with their hands all of a sudden?

With an internal sigh, he picked up the slice, sniffing it cautiously while Weiss was already eating. It actually smelled very good… Tentatively he gave a small bite, trying not to burn his tongue; it was absolutely delicious.   
Excitedly, he took a bigger bite, burning his mouth a bit but not caring because it tasted too good to pay attention to minor injuries.

~*~

Jörg almost had to laugh as he watched the boy’s frown turn into total delight; why hadn’t they ever tried pizza before? In America it was all over the place, but somehow they had never gone there…

They ate in silence because Tom seemed too absorbed in his pizza to be able to hold a conversation, and Jörg was lost in his own thoughts. Today had been such a good day so far and he really wanted to keep it that way, but the upcoming theatre visit made him a bit nervous due to what had happened last time. He had purposefully chosen a children’s story which sounded safe; talking animals surely couldn’t be taken in a bad way, right?

 

“Ready for the Ferris wheel?” Jörg asked once they were done eating and he paid.

Tom nodded, almost looking excited; by now Jörg had learned that the boy really enjoyed high places with amazing views, so this was perfect.   
They left the car parked where it was because finding a parking spot close to the London Eye was very difficult and it wasn’t a long walk, which they managed in about 10 minutes that they spent in silence again. Earlier they had talked a bit – a lot more than they usually did – but now he didn’t know what to say anymore; he didn’t want to bore Tom by talking about useless stuff, and since he had nothing relevant to say, he just kept quiet until they reached the wheel. It looked a lot bigger from close up.

They had to wait in line for a few minutes to get tickets, but soon enough were able to board one of the capsules together with a few other people. Luckily it wasn’t too crowded, so they had enough space to enjoy the view that got more spectacular with every minute they rose higher into the air.

As amazing as the view was, Jörg was far more captivated by the emotions playing across Tom’s features; he looked delighted and breathtaking. They really needed to do things like this more often…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone :3 
> 
> I dont have time to update again this year and in january im going on holiday for two months, so I'll continue regular updates by the end of March ^^ thanks for reading and have a good new year x3


	42. chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! I'm sorry that I haven't posted in such a long time, I'm on holiday and haven't been writing much... but heres one little chapter x3 please enjoy!

 

During the Ferris wheel ride, Weiss pointed out various buildings and places that could be seen, telling Tom what he knew of them. Some of the things were ones Tom had read about in his travel guide, but most he had never heard of. 

Once the ride was over, they walked along the Thames, again in silence. They walked by dozens of people, all of whom seemed to be talking about completely random things; something Tom had never understood. 

"What are they all talking about?" He asked stupidly, looking up at Weiss. 

"Who?" The man looked around in confusion. 

"All those people," Tom muttered, gesturing around at random. 

Weiss shrugged, still a little confused. "I don't know... Whatever is going on in their lives, I suppose. People talk about all sorts of things."

"Like what?" Tom was still a bit confused. Were they talking about silly, useless things like his and Weiss' earlier pizza talk? 

"Anything. They talk about the things they are doing in their lives... Stuff they like or dislike... They talk about their day, or their plans for the day... About their jobs, families, friends. I guess they just share things with each other." 

Share things. Tom had never done that with anyone, right? Did he ever share things? He wanted to, he just didn't really know how. And of course he had no one to share anything with... It let his thoughts wander back to the boy from Germany. It seemed so long ago. He wanted to share his thoughts with him, but of course that would never happen... And besides, he had nothing to share anyway. 

~*~

Jörg frowned a bit as he saw the boy's frown; was something wrong?   
"Why don't we sit down somewhere and drink something?" He had no idea how to ask what might be wrong with the kid, in case he himself knew it, but maybe he could coax it out in a conversation? Was it about earlier? It was no big secret that Tom had communication problems, after all, so maybe that had been it?

"I'm not thirsty though," the boy mumbled awkwardly. 

"Actually it's not really so much about drinking as just sitting down somewhere and..." And what? Talk? That sounded so stupid though...   
Jörg gestured towards a small café with a garden that hosted various people, all of whom just sat around, drank something and talked. 

Tom gave him a weird look but then shrugged and followed him towards the café. "So people just sit here and drink something?" 

"Pretty much." Jörg nodded as they sat down and looked at the menu.

"Really? Tea for 2,5 pounds? Just to sit here? Why don't people go home and drink tea there? I can buy a whole package of tea for 2,5..." Tom muttered outraged while Jörg laughed quietly.

"Yeah well... I guess people really like to sit here and drink it..." Actually he totally agreed: it was crazy. But then again, here he was. About to buy really expensive tee just to enjoy a view of the Thames and Tom's company. 

They both ordered tea and then sat in silence until it arrived; why was it so hard to talk to him? Jörg had no problem talking to David or someone like that... Alright, so maybe he wasn't all too talkative to begin with, but still, with Tom it seemed impossible. 

"So... We just sit here and drink tea?" Tom mumbled awkwardly steering his steaming cup. 

"Pretty much. Usually people talk about things." Wow, awkward. Socializing really wasn't his thing. 

"Like what?" 

"The same as the ones walking around, really. You can talk about anything at any point - there's no real rule to it." Who'd have thought he would ever meet someone more socially incompetent than himself... 

"So we can just talk about anything then?" Tom asked a bit skeptically. 

"Of course." If there was anything the kid wanted to talk about, Jörg was more than willing because just sitting here in silence was horrible. 

Tom nodded in understanding. "How did you become a mercenary?"

Well that was a lot heavier than what Jörg had had in mind. "Um... I went to juvenile detention for six years and when I got out, no one would hire me because I was an ex-con, so... I turned to some old friends I had made in jail, one small job led to another... I met a guy who was in the business - a friend of David's - who hired me and taught me what he knew. That was about it. It's not like this is the life I aspired to... It just happened." How could he explain this to Tom? It's not like he enjoyed this kind of life, but once you were in, it was hard to get out... Though lately he didn't hate it as much as he used to. 

~*~

Tom was utterly surprised the man was talking about this; he had actually just asked that because Weiss had said 'anything', but he hadn't expected an answer. 

"Why were you in jail?" Might as well pry; for some odd reason, he really wanted to know Weiss' story. 

The man hesitated for a moment, giving him an intense look, but then answered quietly so the few other people around them wouldn't hear. "I killed my dad when I was 14." 

Tom had expected him to say something like car theft, and was a bit shocked; now that he knew Weiss a bit, he actually thought him to be somewhat nice. "Why?" A few months ago he wouldn't have needed a reason, he would just have thought it was because the man was a crazy psycho, but now he didn't believe that anymore. 

"Because he was an asshole who abused me and my mother whenever he was drunk, and one night I couldn't stand it anymore so we got in a huge fight and I ended up stabbing him with a kitchen knife." Weiss traced his fingers over the rim of his cup as he talked, staring into his tea. 

Tom didn't know what to say; he felt bad for what had happened to the man, but didn't know how to express it properly. Again, he hadn't expected such an elaborate answer, and had no idea how to react to it. For the first time in his life, he felt compelled to share his own story, but wasn't sure if it was appropriate or not, so he ended up just nodding and sipping some of his tea. 

"What about your mother?" Tom asked hesitantly; Weiss had never mentioned her, so maybe she was dead too. 

"She lives in Germany." Weiss shrugged. 

"Do you visit her sometimes?" Why hadn't they visited her on Christmas? The memory still made him shiver a little, but he tried to ignore it. 

"No. She hates me for having killed my father. Ever since that day, she wanted nothing more to do with me." Weiss sighed with a sad smile and half-hearted shrug. 

"But I thought that he was really mean to her, too?" Tom asked in confusion. 

"He was. For countless years. He used to hit her and force her to... Well, anything he wanted. He was awful to her, and I always begged her to leave him, but she always said that she loved him and he loved her... That he was just stressed or some crap like that." Weiss shook his head. 

"Why did she love him if he abused her? How can anyone love someone who hurts them?" Unwillingly, Tom's voice had turned slightly accusing with the last sentence; obviously Weiss hadn't missed it because he nodded softly, giving him a regretful, understanding look. 

"I don't know. I guess some people are like that." Weiss looked back down at his cup. 

"That's not right," Tom said firmly. How could someone be so stupid? He knew very well what it was like to be mistreated by someone, and the last thing he would ever do was love someone like that. 

"It's not. And it shouldn't ever be that way. Unfortunately, it is all too often." 

Tom didn't miss the regret and sadness in the man's eyes and voice, but it only served to anger him more. "Then why is it like that?"  
If the man knew how bad it was, why had he done that? Why hadn't he just told him from the beginning? Why hadn't he always been as nice as Tom knew he could be?

"I don't know, Tom," Weiss said quietly, looking him directly in the eyes. "I guess sometimes people do stupid things like that because they don't know what else to do. Sometimes people make mistakes that there are no excuses or reasons for - they are just horrible mistakes that can never be taken back and often ruin people's lives." 

Tom nodded numbly. He wanted to be angry but somehow he just felt empty whenever he thought about this. "I want you to be nice to me," he mumbled stupidly, glaring up at Weiss who looked slightly taken aback. "Not just here in London, but also when we go back home..." Of course he was half expecting Weiss to laugh or say something nasty, but he didn't.

"Okay," the man said simply. 

Really? That was it? Tom stared at him, still sort of expecting something else to happen, but it didn't. 

"Okay." Tom agreed, still feeling somewhat stupid. After all, who was he to start demanding things all of a sudden? Weiss could do anything he wanted - Tom had nowhere else to go. 

~*~

That had definitely been one of the weirdest moments of Jörg's life. He had been caught so off guard that all he could do was say 'okay'. Not that he had any intention to be mean to Tom anyway, but it had still been really weird and now he had no idea how to act. 

"At what time is the theatre?" Tom suddenly changed topics completely.

"Uh..." Jörg tried to get his thoughts back in order as quickly as possible. "At 7:30, I think. Do you want to eat dinner before, or should we eat later since we had such a late lunch?" 

"I'm not hungry at all... Maybe later? But it's not even 4 yet... What do we do until 7?" 

"Whatever you'd like. We could do a city tour or something." 

~*~

'Whatever you'd like'. Tom really liked that. "What's a city tour?" He didn't actually care what they did, but he liked the fact that Weiss was willing to do whatever Tom wanted. 

"It's a tour on one of those red double-deckers that takes you around london and shows you all the nice places." 

Tom had seen those buses. "Sure." He didn't want to show the man just how badly he really wanted to go on one of those, so he added a casual shrug for good measure. 

Weiss paid the outrageous sum of 5 pounds for their tea, and then they headed towards the nearest bus stop; apparently there were a lot from which you could take these buses. 

"We can also go shopping if you want. I think the tour doesn't take very long." Weiss commented as they walked.

"Shopping for what?" Tom didn't really know what he meant. 

"I don't know, anything you want. Souvenirs or something... Have you spent any of your money yet?" The man gave him a curious look.

"Yes, lots." Tom nodded enthusiastically. 

"Really? On what?" Weiss raised a dubitative eyebrow. 

"On presents for you and Natalie." He left out having spent some on the present for the boy in Germany; Weiss didn't need to know that.

The man smiled. "I meant on something for yourself." 

"Like what?" Weiss always bought everything Tom needed. 

"Anything. New games for your Gameboy for example. Do you even play with it?" 

"No, but Bill plays with it sometimes." 

Weiss laughed a deep, pleasant laugh that surprised Tom a little and made him laugh a bit as well, though he wasn't sure why they were laughing. 

"Does it still work? Or is it all gnawed up already?" Weiss asked with a few more chuckles.

"I don't know... I haven't tried it since Christmas. Sometimes it makes beeping sounds when Bill bites it, so it probably still works," Tom nodded thoughtfully, feeling a bit bad for never having used the present. It just wasn't something he was all that interested in; he much preferred watching movies in his spare time. 

"I see. You don't like video games? Cuz, you know, most other kids your age do." Weiss shrugged. 

Tom frowned a bit, glaring up at him. "And that's why you think it needs to be my interest as well?" He had no idea why he was bothered by it, but somehow being called a child by Weiss bothered him. It didn't bother him at all when someone else did, but he hated it when Weiss compared him to others of his age. 

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I meant. I just meant that there's a lot of fun things you could do. Like playing Gameboy." 

"If it's so much fun, why don't you do it?" Tom demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

~*~

Jörg stared at him; had he missed something? He was just trying to make random small-talk, and it had turned into a weird sort of argument. Was this Tom hitting puberty or something?   
Oh great. Simone had always dealt with crap like this... He had no idea how to handle a moody teenager. Hopefully Tom wouldn't be as sassy as Bill the smart-ass. 

"I would have loved something like a Gameboy as a kid, but I never got one so somehow I never got into the whole gaming thing," he said as calmly and reasonably as possible. 

"I didn't like playing it so I don't," Tom said just as calmly. Apparently not like Bill after all. Thank god.

"Makes sense." Jörg sighed inaudibly. As much as he loved Bill, he wasn't sure he was able to handle him full-time. It made him aware again of how grown-up Tom really was; the poor kid couldn't even enjoy video games anymore... 


	43. Chapter 43

The ride on the tour bus turned out to be less fun than Tom had thought, though he still enjoyed it. For some odd reason, he had preferred the cafe... The whole 'sitting down and talking' thingy had actually been nice. Strange, but nice.  
Talking had never been something Tom was really into, but the idea of sharing his thoughts with others was great, and for the first time he felt like he could actually tell Weiss what he really wanted and thought. It gave him an odd sense of accomplishment. It was as if Weiss wasn't all so scary and dangerous anymore... Tom had been quite surprised how well the man had taken his assertiveness - at one moment he had thought Weiss would strike at him, but nothing at all had happened. For the first time, he wasn't actually scared and felt inferior anymore.

Time flew by rather quickly, even though they barely talked - to Tom's great dismay - and soon enough they were standing outside the theatre close to Piccadilly Square, waiting to be let it.  
Tom felt the familiar excitement rise in his chest as they entered the large room and searched for their seats. The hall was a bit smaller than the one in Paris had been, but it was still very nice and Tom could hardly contain his excitement, despite the fiasco that had happened last time; back then he had believed he would never set foot in another theatre ever again, but the feeling had passed and meanwhile he was really looking forward to it again.

Just like last time, it took endless minutes until everyone was seated and the lights finally dimmed before the stage was bathed in colors of yellow, orange and red, and soon the entire hall was consumed by powerful music just as an unusually dressed person walked to the middle of the stage, singing words Tom couldn't understand. What language was this in...?

A large, orange sun rose in the back of the stage just as 'animals' appeared left and right, gracefully walking around. The costumes were unlike anything he had ever seen, rich in color and detail, and not at all as ridiculous as he had imagined animal costumes to look like.

Tom was in awe as he watched the beautiful 'animals' dancing around the stage; this was not at all like the silly play he had had in mind when Weiss told him it was about talking animals. It didn't even seem like that much of a performance for children. The music was strong, with good lyrics, and the overall story also seemed deeper than he had anticipated.

It had started out very light, but soon taken a turn for the darker as the alfa lion was killed by his brother; Tom was staring wide eyed at the dramatic scene.

~*~

'Seriously?' Jörg thought dryly. 'And they had to name him 'Scar'?!' Couldn't they go to a musical that didn't contain someone with scars all over their face? It was as if they were cursed.

Carefully, he looked over at Tom, but the boy didn't seem to have noticed the disgruntled lion who had a very similar scar to his own; the kid appeared completely absorbed by the surprisingly interesting plot, either unaware or uncaring for any similarities between himself and, once again, the villain of the story. Hopefully it would remain like that or it might just put the poor boy off the theatre for life...

To Jörg's great surprise, the play turned out to be quite entertaining. Weren't it for the little Scar-issue, he would have been enjoying himself very much, but not knowing how Tom was dealing with this matter, stressed him a bit.  
The fact that he was stressed over such a silly thing nearly amused him, weren't it for the fact that he was totally stressed about stressing out. This boy would be the death of him.

 

"So far it's not too bad." Jörg stretched with a shrug as the lights came on for intermission.

"No. I like it." Tom nodded enthusiastically. "Though I really don't think a lion could survive off worms and bugs for such a long time. He would probably have developed some kind of nutritional deficiency," he added thoughtfully.

Jörg laughed as they slowly made their way out into the lobby. "That's not the point. It's a kid's story - they can't make the lion hunt and eat animals."

Tom turned his head to give him an odd look. "Aren't bugs animals too? What does it matter if he eats a grub or a gazelle?"

"Technically seen, bugs are insects..." Jörg said slowly, not sure where the boy was headed with this; he had one of those looks that Jörg didn't know how to interpret exactly.

"And that makes them inferior, or what?" Tom demanded.

"Uh... I don't know? Maybe? I guess it's because people don't like bugs very much, so it would be more moral to have the lion eat bugs rather than a bigger animal..." Why did Tom always have to question everything and see everything from such a dark side?!

"So if I don't like someone it's fine to kill them, regardless what other people may feel about them?" Tom asked slightly annoyed, crossing his arms with a frown. Great.

"That's not what I meant," Jörg tried quickly, well knowing Tom's mood had already shifted to defensive and difficult. "I meant that it's just a kid's story - it's not real. It has nothing to do with reality."

"Maybe not this particular case, but in reality it's just like that. We protect the things we consider worthy - things we personally like - but what about everything else? Just because we consider dogs to be cuter than pigs we keep dogs in our homes, love them and care for them, while we force pigs into meat factories where they spend their entire lives in darkness and misery, waiting for the day they are released from their concrete torture to be slaughtered. Why do dogs have rights and pigs don't? How are dogs worth more - like the gazelle - and pigs worth less - like the bugs?" Tom ranted, glaring up at Jörg who was trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Um... I don't know..." He said slowly; what could he answer that? He hadn't even thought about it.

"How can you not know that? Why do you eat pork but not dog?" Tom demanded.

Jörg sighed heavily, running a hand over his face; Tom had begun talking just a few hours ago - how was he supposed to survive this kid if every topic he brought up was like this? "I suppose I eat pork because that's what the supermarket sells? Everyone eats that..." The moment the words left his mouth, he knew that had been a very stupid thing to say.

"Right. So just because everyone else does it, it's okay," Tom snapped, making Jörg groan internally.

"That's not what I mean."

"You seem to be having great difficulty saying what you mean today," Tom grumbled snidely.

"It's not my fault things are the way they are!" Jörg growled quietly, trying to keep his voice down so they wouldn't attract any attention from all the people surrounding them.

"Of course it's your fault - whose fault would it be?" Tom raised a cold eyebrow; he looked so much older than he had just yesterday.

"Other peoples! I don't know..." What was going on here? Jörg didn't even know what to say to any of that... Kids were such a drag.

"Other peoples? Like you just said: you do the same everyone does, so it's just as much your fault as it is theirs," Tom argued back.

Part of Jörg wanted to argue, the other knew it was useless; of course Tom was right, but what was he supposed to do? Especially at this moment... Besides... he didn't really care all that much... Why did Tom care about any of that? Why did he care about pig rights - the boy couldn't care less about human rights...

"What do you want me to do, Tom? I can't change the world..."

Tom nodded slowly. "That's what everyone else thinks too, so no one even tries."

Jörg stared down at him, still trying to figure out what had happened; how had his life come to this point? He was a mercenary! He didn't have time to worry about animal rights or whatever crap the kid was talking about - he had to deal with other problems.

But of course that didn't keep him from thinking about it for the rest of the bloody play; was he really so bad? Did he really do the same things everyone else did?

The answer was blatant: of course he did. And he was a lot worse than other people - given his job and all... During his entire life he had never given much thought to how good of a person he was or how ethical his actions were; of course not, it all became rather irrelevant in comparison to his job so he had always ignored it, but even putting the whole killing thing aside, he wasn't really much of a good person... He didn't care about anyone or anything - be it other people, animals, environment or anything else... Apparently unlike Tom.

Warily he looked over at the boy who was cheerfully focused on the play again; how did Tom have the will to bother with such things given the life they led? What kind of priorities had he set? And why the hell did Jörg suddenly have the desire to change something in his, generally very comfortable, life?

Damn Tom.

Their earlier dispute seemed forgotten because Tom cheered and clapped as the play ended; he hadn't even seemed affected by Scar's death...

"That was surprisingly good," Jörg commented casually as they slowly walked out of the hall; he mostly wanted to test the waters to see how the boy was feeling now.

"Yes, it was very nice." Tom smiled brightly; he had been smiling a lot throughout the whole play.

Jörg sighed in relief, only now noticing just how stressed he had truly been over this; it was ridiculous.

"I need a drink,"Jörg muttered half at himself.

Tom nodded. "I'm hungry... Do you want to get something to eat?"

Jörg stared at him for a moment; it was the first time Tom had ever made a suggestion on his own like that. Usually he just went along with whatever Jörg said. "Yeah. Food sounds good." It was nice. Putting aside the whole attitude Tom had suddenly acquired.

"Those giraffes were so incredible. The way they moved? I would kill myself," Tom said randomly while they walked down the street, away from the crowds in front of the theatre.

All Jörg could do was stare; what was Tom doing? Trying to converse? Were they just going to ignore the earlier pig dispute?

"Yeah, it was quite impressive." What was he supposed to do now? Were they having a casual, totally irrelevant conversation about the Lion King?  
Wow... Tom had really gotten into this whole talking issue... Even if some parts of it were hard to bear.  
"I also really liked the Leopard. It was awesome." Was Tom seriously talking about random animals? What was going on here?

Holding a silly conversation with Tom turned out to be a lot easier than he had ever imagined, because by the time they got to a restaurant, they were still talking about the play: costumes, songs, plot, characters, and every other totally irrelevant thing. Jörg couldn't remember a time in his life when he had talked to someone for so long about something so unimportant. He liked it.

~*~

By the time they got to the restaurant, Tom was giddy with a whole new type of excitement he had never known before. It made his palms sweat and his feet feel weird; what was going on?  
Until today, he had always tried to say as little as possible to Weiss, but now that he got into the whole talking thing, he loved it. And Weiss didn't seem to mind at all, aside from that little argument earlier, but he hadn't been able to help himself - they were things that had bothered him for a long time and now he had finally come around to saying something. It bothered him that Weiss was so... 'normal'. Tom believed him to have far more potential and now that they could talk, he would tell him how he felt about the matter. Tom could just babble about anything that came to his mind, and the man would actually say something back. It was great!  
No wonder so many people just sat around at cafes, talking all day.

Even throughout their dinner, they talked nonstop, taking nearly three times as long with their meal as usual. Their conversation moved from London theatre to Tom's studies, to Weiss' travels, all the way to how he had met David and Natalie. They stayed clear off arguments though; Tom thought it was best not to overdo it in one night. After all, he just wanted Weiss to think about it, he didn't want to make him angry.

~*~

Jörg was overwhelmed with the current situation; it was bizarre and surreal. And the only thing he could focus on were Tom's shining eyes and thrilled smile. Never in a million years had he thought that Tom would smile at him like that, or talk so casually. It was almost too good to be true.  
Could things really be this way? If he hadn't screwed it up so badly, would this be normal between them?  
He really wanted this to be normal... He wanted to always be able to talk about such silly things in such a relaxed, friendly way; or even less nice things, it didn't matter; even arguments were ok as long as it was with Tom. The last person he had felt this comfortable with, had been Simone...  
Not even with David could he talk like this, though he had no idea why. Casual chitchat just wasn't his thing at all... Even though he enjoyed it so much.

While they talked, Jörg promised himself he would do everything in his power to keep things like this; he wanted Tom to always be this happy and relaxed around him. This time he wouldn't screw it up again because this was a lot better than he had ever thought things would be between them.

~*~

Tom wished this night would last forever. Even though none of the things they spoke of were important or mattered, it had turned into one of the most pleasant nights of his life, and he felt like he could talk forever. To Weiss. Life was weird like that.

But of course that didn't happen because after their late dinner they headed back to their hotel, and each went to their respective rooms even though Tom was far too excited to sleep. Was that what it was like to be friends with someone?  
But he and Weiss weren't friends... Were they? Tom wasn't entirely sure what 'friends' entailed, but surely it had to be something like that?  
Natalie had once told him that a friend was someone with whom you could hang out and do nothing in particular with, just spend some time. And talk. Tom clearly remembered her saying that.  
Well, whatever he and Weiss were now, Tom liked it and wished it would stay like that forever.

As he lay in bed that night, musing over the unusual day he had had, his thoughts eventually traveled to the boy he had seen in Germany. Would he have been able to talk to him so freely too? Would that boy even want to talk to him, or would he be scared of him like everyone else was?  
Deep down he knew the answer; just because he felt so strongly about that boy, didn't mean he would ever feel the same... Just like everyone else, he would look away and avoid him.  
Except for Weiss. He never looked away.

~*~

Exhausted, Bill dropped down on his bed, closing his eyes. He was so tired he wanted to pass out. Over the past few days, they had done nothing but work. His throat was sore from singing, and his ears rang with the constant repetition of the songs they had played at least a thousand times.

This was not at all the way he had imagined it would be; he had always thought it would be so much fun to finally produce music, but it was awful, hard work, no sleep, and pure stress. This was not the kind of celebrity life he had dreamed of. Not that they were celebrities yet - not even close - but still.  
He was tired, homesick, and wanted to stop. This was so not worth it...

But then he remembered his lifelong dream of becoming a famous rock star... It was so worth it. Once he was famous, he could do whatever he wanted and wouldn't have to work anymore!  
Of course another small reason were the letters hidden in his bedside drawer; whenever he felt as if he wanted to quit because it all got too much for him, he would look at them and let them encourage him.  
Like today.

With a quiet groan, he reached over to his nightstand to retrieve the letters; he was still determined to find that person someday, no matter how long it took.


	44. Chapter 44

The flight back to Colorado was rather uneventful, and after 20 exhausting hours, they were finally back at the White Ranch where Natalie and Bill the dog were already waiting for them.

"How'd the exams go?" Natalie asked immediately as Tom exited the car and was nearly knocked over by Bill who was almost howling with excitement.

"All right," Tom managed to reply while he tried to wrestle with an over-excited Bill. It wasn't entirely true that the exams had gone well though – physics had been awful – but he didn't want to disappoint her.

"And the flight? Did you guys go see London too?" Natalie asked excitedly while she helped Weiss with the bags.   
Tom just nodded, leaving the talking and the bags up to Weiss; he needed to cuddle Bill right now.

Apparently Weiss was less talkative with Natalie than he was with Tom, because he just briefly mentioned that everything had been fine, they went to London for a day and that was it; obviously he didn't care to elaborate on the amazing time they had had.

Their life went on as usual, with the vast change that Weiss had kept true to his word and remained nice; it made a tremendous difference in their daily lives that had somehow become far more pleasant all of a sudden. Their morning training sessions were much more fun, and Tom even started seeking out more common activities that he had previously always preferred to do alone such as cleaning out stables, cooking, or random house chores; who'd have thought doing things together with someone else was so nice? It made everything less boring and mundane.

Less than two weeks after their London trip, Tom was almost used to Weiss' laugh and his, sometimes, rather snarky comments to completely random topics that somehow seemed to come up no matter what they were doing together; Tom was really getting the hang of this talking thing and could now converse about practically anything.

Even their job got more pleasant; waiting for targets was so much less boring when they could talk.   
And so they waited on the roof opposite a waste disposal site in the middle of the night, quietly talking about Tom's grades. He had indeed failed that physics exam and was very upset about it.

"It's just a test, don't worry so much about it. You can retake it anyway," Weiss tried to appease him, but Tom, now more capable of communicating his feelings, shook his head vehemently.

"I should have studied more."

Weiss sighed, shaking his head. "Never mind about it. You did great in all the others."

"Great? I got a B minus in math!" Tom complained loudly.

"Shh, someone's going to hear us. The best grade I ever got in math was a C – stop complaining." Weiss chuckled a bit, rolling his eyes at Tom's dramatic moment.

"Why were you so bad at school? You don't seem so dumb..." Tom asked something he had wondered various times already.

"Thanks." Weiss laughed quietly. "I wasn't bad in school because of my intelligence – or lack of it – I was bad because I never studied and didn't care about my grades. You study a lot and also care very much, so your grades are going to improve and you'll be fine. There's our target."

Tom looked through the rifle's telescope that was set on the back door of the building, and he felt a chill run up his spine. "That' our target?" He whispered at the man next to him who was also watching the young woman who was heading out to the parking lot that only hosted a single car.

"Yes. Your shot," Weiss confirmed just as quietly.

"It's a woman," Tom stated the obvious.

"I can see that. Shoot her," Weiss ordered in a far too gentle voice, given the words.

Tom's finger twitched on the trigger; he had never actually killed a woman before... Their timeframe was almost up because the woman reached her car, unlocked it and was about to get in, just as the shot ran out and slammed her against the car from which she slowly sagged down to the floor in a large puddle of blood that pooled around her.

Releasing a shaky breath, Tom looked over at Weiss; would the man be angry at him for not taking the shot? Had he just ruined everything they had built up over the past few weeks?

"Let's pack up," Weiss said quietly as he packed up his gear.

Tom followed his example quietly; he couldn't believe he had just missed a shot. He hadn't hesitated to shoot in nearly two years... How could he disappoint Weiss like that? What had been wrong with him? Why did he hesitate...?

Once they were all packed, they headed back to the car for the nearly four-hour drive back home, an hour of which had already passed in silence. Tom hated it.

"I'm sorry," he finally mumbled, looking over at Weiss, but his face was expressionless.

"What was that? You would have let her get away." The man didn't sound angry, not even disappointed.

"I'm sorry," Tom repeated.

"It's alright, it can happen. It would just be great if it didn't happen all too often," Weiss said with a sigh. "I'm not always going to be there for a backup shot."

Tom stared at him as he slowly looked over and gave him a small smile.

"You do know that woman can also do some pretty bad things, right?" Weiss asked quietly, focusing back on the road.

Tom had never heard of a woman doing anything he would kill her for. "Like what?"

"The same as men, actually. At least... certain things," Weiss added after a moment of hesitation.

"What did she do?"

"I don't know, it's not my job to ask questions," the man said what he had told him already long ago.

"We just kill anyone, right? No matter who they are or what they did – or did not do, right?" Tom asked dejectedly; that was the main point that bothered him with that job.

"Yes," Weiss confirmed with a nod. Of course it was something Tom knew already but...

"Why?"

"Because we're hitmen – that's what we do."

"Does it ever bother you?" Again that was something Tom had wondered for a long time but never dared to ask. Initially he had been sure it didn't bother him at all, but the better he got to know the other man, the less certain he became of that.

"I try not to think about it."

"You always do that..." Tom muttered, slightly irritated.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Weiss asked a bit defensively.

"Whenever something is uncomfortable, you try not to think about it: killing people, eating animals that spend their entire life in meat factories..." The animal fact actually bothered Tom more than the human one, but he decided not to voice that.

Weiss sighed loudly, running a hand over his face. "What do you want me to do?"

"Buy organic meat that comes from humane farms..."

"I meant about the job!" Weiss groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Oh... I don't know. Get a different one?" Tom shrugged.

Weiss turned to give him a look. "Right. You don't know what it's like to work. You slave away 40 hours a week, have zero time for yourself, make your boss rich, and at the end of the month you have a lousy 2000 left to live – no thanks, I'd rather kill people."

Tom gave him a disapproving look. "Killing people is better?"

"Of course it's better: lots of money for very little work. Plus you don't have a boss nagging at you all the time... You can go on holiday whenever you want...And generally do anything your own way."

"If it's so good, why are there so few people doing it?" Tom asked skeptically, making Weiss smile.

"Because it's physically and mentally challenging, plus it carries a very high risk. It's just my personal choice – I'd rather do this than... anything else I would be qualified for – which is basically nothing. So for someone like me, this is about as good as it gets."

Tom didn't miss the slightly bitter undertone in Weiss' voice; was he not happy with this...?

"What happens when you... aren't physically able to do it anymore?" Tom was well aware just how physically challenging it was – at some point they would be too old to do this.

"I'm working on a retirement plan. Which is more than what most other people can do, with the tiny salaries they have." Weiss frowned a bit.

"What about me?" Tom asked quietly; he didn't want to do this forever...

"You are getting a good education and then... doing something else."

"Like what? Slaving away 40 hours a week to make my boss rich?" Tom asked drily and Weiss chuckled.

"Or you could work on a retirement plan, like me. You've got a pretty good head start already. I'll show you someday." Weiss smiled encouragingly, making Tom feel a bit better; maybe their future wasn't too bleak when it came to work... Tom couldn't wait to not have to kill people anymore for a living. Tonight had been another one of those nights that he knew he'd have nightmares about.

"Am I not a bit too young to retire?"

"You are never too young to retire, trust me," Weiss said firmly. "There is so much more in life than working... Sadly most people never get to experience it, and most believe they are only as good as their job... Don't ever become like that. We work to live, we don't live to work – don't forget that."

~*~

Bill cheered happily with the rest of his bandmates once they returned to their small apartment in Berlin. They would finally be producing a video for their first song 'Through the Monsoon', which was based on the first letter Bill had received from T. He couldn't believe they would actually be making a video of it. Shooting would start next week, and within a month, the video would be sent to local TV stations; it was almost too good to be true.

"I wonder how they'll make it!" Georg chattered happily; they had been coming up with all sorts of crazy ideas during their drive home, since they didn't know what exactly the studio wanted. They had, of course, pitched in with their own ideas, but those weren't too concrete yet either. The only thing they knew is that it was supposed to contain water – monsoon storm and all that – so there needed to be something stormy going on.

"I wonder how long it'll be until it's finally out," Bill groaned; somehow this entire music business took so much longer than he had thought it would. He thought once their album was recorded everything would just magically fall into place, but that had already been nearly a year ago, and so far nothing. Not a single one of their songs had ever been played on the radio... It was so disappointing.

However, as the next week rolled around, Bill had already forgotten all about his impatience and was totally into filming the short video that had turned out far more elaborate than they had initially believed.

Shooting was extremely tiresome, cold, wet and generally awful, weren't it for the fact that Bill was so excited about it, he barely noticed it all. Of course he had no idea how the many short scenes they shot were supposed to fit together to make a decent video, but their producer said it was going well, so the four boys just went along, hoping the man knew what he was doing.   
They had recorded the music earlier in the studio, and none of it was played live in the video, which was a bit of a disappointment for Bill, who had believed they would actually be performing, but he was told things didn't work that way.   
Given half the lyrics were sung underwater, that made perfect sense though, so he was okay with that in the end.

~*~

Tom's summer had passed far too quickly for his taste, spent mostly on long trail rides with Weiss, training and studying; the trail rides was what he enjoyed the most, of course. By now he was almost fully comfortable talking to the man, and they had even watched a movie together once; it was an old war movie, during which Weiss had mostly complained about all the technical things they had done wrong, and how all the rifles were missing the cleaning rods. Nevertheless, Tom had enjoyed it and was looking forward to another lazy weekend when they could watch another one.

It was precisely the following weekend, when Bill, Weiss' son, called again; this time it was Weiss who picked up though, so Tom didn't get to talk to him, but he was in the kitchen listening to the man's occasional 'okay', 'yes', 'no', and 'mhm's while Bill babbled endlessly on the other side of the line.

When Bill was done talking, Weiss came back into the kitchen and resumed his interrupted breakfast.

Tom was unsure whether he should ask or not; as much as they talked, they had never spoken about Bill before. Eventually he decided to be brave.

"How's Bill?"

~*~

Jörg tried to keep his eye from twitching; Bill was the last thing he wanted to talk to Tom about. He had often thought about telling him that it had been Bill back then in Germany, but never dared. Maybe now was a good moment to come clean...?


	45. Chapter 45

"He's fine." What was he supposed to say though? If he told Tom that he had pretended to kill his own son in order to force Tom to have sex with him, their entire relationship would go back to zero...

Tom nodded, saying nothing.

"We're driving to Arizona tomorrow," Jörg changed subjects completely, not wanting to talk about Bill.

"Oh." Tom nodded again, looking slightly distracted.

"We have an assignment due next week." Jörg got up to retrieve the papers with their next job. "Up until now, we've only had elimination targets – as you know – but this one is different. We're meant to make sure he's gone – no evidence of any kind – which means we need to make the body disappear."

"And what do we do? Dump him in a pier?" Tom asked passively, obviously referring to how they had come together.

"No, the piers are too far away from our target – it would be too dangerous to drive there with him. That's why we will go there tomorrow, to check out how we will get rid of him effectively," Jörg explained; he wasn't very fond of these jobs – he much preferred just shooting someone and leaving them there... It was far less personal.

"How do you usually get rid of bodies? Won't someone find them eventually?" Tom asked doubtfully.

"Sometimes... Most of the time not. Dumping someone in the ocean can be effective, depending on the currents, though they are often found by fishers so if it's meant to be a permanent disappearance, not appropriate. Burying is another option... Depending on location, it can take many years for someone to discover the body, though it's a bit of a luck thing. A very effective, but somewhat risky method is to dump them at an animal feed processing plant where-"

"What?" Tom interrupted horrified. "What does that mean?"

Jörg nodded slowly. "It means they will be turned into dog and cat food, together with all the other animal waste from human consumption. It's clean and leaves no remains since the hair is burned off, all bones are grinded and the little human DNA will mix with all the animal blood that is later washed away with bleach – however it's difficult to smuggle a human into the factory, so it really depends on the security of each facility."

"That's disgusting," Tom muttered, staring down at his nearly finished breakfast.

"And here I thought you would mind that least of all..." Jörg said drily. "Aren't you always the one placing humans and animals on the same level?"

Tom lifted his head to give him a passive stare. "Yes. I was referring to those food factories in general, not to the human part."

"...Oh. Right..." Jörg said awkwardly; he should have known. "Anyway... There's a construction site nearby that will be building the fundament for a multistory building – they will pour over 200 tons of concrete into a hole in the ground – a place that will most likely not be dug up for another hundred years – and I want to find out when they will do this, so we can bury him there the night before," He explained his plan.

"Oh." Tom nodded. "How do we find that out?"

"We'll break into the construction company's main offices and make a copy of the building schedule. According to the process they have been making so far, it should be sometime this week. If not, we have to find a different method to get rid of him." Jörg really hoped that would work because everything else was a lot more work and he was lazy... And he really didn't like dealing with dead people.

Tom nodded again. "Okay."

"All right then." Jörg nodded as well, cleaning up from breakfast and then heading outside to clean the stables before their morning training.

~*~

Tom watched Weiss disappearing through the kitchen door; why had he not wanted to talk about Bill? His son seemed so nice and yet the man never spoke a single word about him... Natalie talked about her children all the time – why did Weiss not do that? At least a little bit? It was weird.

With a shrug, Tom cleared the breakfast table, rinsing the plates in the sink and putting away the butter. As he opened the fridge, he saw a slab of meat wrapped in a plastic bag that nearly made him gag; usually the meat Weiss bought was neatly packaged, but this one was just stuffed into a simple bag... It was even more disgusting than usual.

Making a disgusted sound, he followed the man outside to help him clean the stables. Weiss was almost done by the time Tom finally arrived.

"What's that meat in the fridge?" Tom asked in disapproval while he stuffed hay into the nets.

Weiss turned to give him a weird look. "I bought it yesterday, from a small farm not far from here. They keep their cows outside all year, on a large field with lots of grass where they can run around happily until they are killed very humanely, without transportation stress because they have their own slaughterhouse right there."

~*~

It had taken Jörg various weeks to find a place like that, and now he really wanted Tom to know even though it was ridiculous. But somehow he had the desire to show the kid that he was making an effort to improve the things that bothered him.

"Really?" Tom asked softly, giving him one of the sweetest smiles Jörg had ever seen. That had so been worth the 40% more he had to pay for the damned 'ethical' meat.

"Yes." Jörg nodded, unable to look away until Tom looked back down at his work, still smiling happily. 

~*~

Tom couldn't believe the man had truly taken his words to heart; he knew Weiss didn't actually care about any of that and was just doing it for him. Did the assassin really take Tom's feeling so much into consideration?

It was a very sweet gesture that Tom appreciated more than he could say; not just because of the animals he pitied, but also because it showed how much he meant to the man. Something he often tried to ignore, but lately it became harder to do, and the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if anyone else would ever do something like that for him... Would there ever be another person who would go out of their way for him as much as Weiss did?

Of course not. Weiss... felt the way Tom felt about that boy in Germany. The boy who would never do something like that for him... Who would never look at him the way Weiss did... Who would never do all the things Weiss did all the time, most of which went unaddressed even though Tom was so grateful for them.

No matter how crazy he might be for the boy he had known back then, he knew things would never be real between them, even if they would ever meet.

After cleaning up the stables together, like every morning, they headed to the training room in the back of the house, Tom's thoughts still lingering on Germany.

As much as he tried to concentrate on the self-defense training the man was trying to teach him, it was difficult today because his mind was in another country, far away, with someone he was desperately trying not to forget. But the more the thought about the boy, the less he could remember his face. He just remembered he had been amazing, but the details were starting to fade away and it bothered him. Why hadn't he taken a picture of him?

With a grunt, Tom stumbled back on the mat, falling on his back and momentarily losing focus due to the intense pain to his head, caused by Weiss' foot he had failed to block.

"Are you okay?" Weiss leaned over him, concern flashing in his eyes. The last time something like this had happened, the man had snarled at him to concentrate.

"Ow..." Tom mumbled, rubbing the side of his head where Weiss foot had made contact with him.

"Let me see," Weiss said gently, pulling his hand away to take a closer look at his head. Tom swallowed, suddenly nervous about the man's hand softly ghosting over the forming bruise. Even though he wasn't feeling too bad and able to get up, he remained lying there, unsure what was going on; what was that look in Weiss' eyes?

"Maybe we should take a break," Weiss said quietly, looking a bit concerned.

Tom nodded, really wanting a break but unable to get up due to the man leaning over him, his hands on either side of Tom's head; what was he doing just sitting there next to him? And why was he leaning so unnecessarily close...? And what the hell was that intense look in his eyes?

"I'm sorry about Germany," Weiss suddenly muttered.

"You already said that..." Tom mumbled just as quietly, hoping he wasn't coming across as rude.

"I know. But I know that no matter how often I apologize, it will never make up for it."

Tom didn't miss the sadness reflecting in the man's eyes, and had the strong urge to tell him it was fine, even though he wasn't sure it was. He had said he had forgiven him, but deep down he wasn't sure if it was true. "It's fine," He finally uttered, speaking so quietly he barely managed to hear his own voice.

"No it's not..." Weiss shook his head softly, lowering it another few inches until his slightly long hair brushed against Tom's face.

Tom was barely able to breathe as all sorts of insane thoughts started forming in his head; he wasn't naïve enough to misunderstand the look in the man's eyes, or the situation he found himself in. Over the past few weeks he had come to like Weiss more and more, and given he knew how the man felt about him, he was confused about his own feelings and wishes.   
There was a part of him that was terrified and didn't want this – for a large number of reasons – but the other part was lonely and eager for many things he didn't have names for. And of course there was also the fact that he admired Weiss, so having his attention created an indescribable feeling.

"Why did you interrupt me that night on my birthday?" Weiss asked quietly, not ever breaking eye contact.

Tom knew what night he was talking – the one where he had chased away Weiss' one-night-stand by gunpoint, and Weiss had promised he would stop sleeping around... As far as Tom knew, the man had stayed true to his word.

"Um..." Tom muttered, distracted by the man's breath ghosting across his cheek. Despite having been very confused about his own actions at the time, he had long come to understand the reason he had done that: he had been upset that Weiss, despite promising his heart to Tom, had invited some random stranger into his bed. Of course he knew it was ridiculous that it bothered him, but it was a fact he couldn't ignore.

"I don't know," he finally whispered, swallowing nervously; he had no good reason he could give the man.

"Hm." Weiss nodded softly. "I think you do know."

A cold chill ran up Tom's spine as he realized the man knew, but what could he say? Denying it was useless, but admitting it was ridiculous... It's not like he wanted anything from Weiss, right? No, of course not... Or did he...? Did he have some strange, repressed desire that he was unable to admit to himself?   
He had stopped hating the man a while ago, but... Not hating someone was far away from liking them. Wasn't it?

And yet, he made the shocking realization that he hoped the man would lean closer.

~*~

Jörg felt as if he were under a spell. He knew he should get up and walk away, but he was so captivated by Tom's uncertain eyes that he remained there, waiting for something though he didn't know what. An acceptance? A rejection? Any sign from Tom to let him know where he stood, but there was nothing.   
Tom didn't look away, try to get up, or make any other attempt of pushing aside, the way Jörg was expecting him to do at any moment. Was he not doing any of that out of fear...? He hadn't seemed very fearful in the past few months though, especially since England. What was that uncertainty in his eyes...?

'Only one way to find out,' Jörg thought drily, barely able to breath as he slowly leaned another inch closer to the boy who still stared up at him with wide eyes.

~*~

Tom knew that if he wanted to stop the man, now was his last chance. But did he really want to?  
He knew he wasn't in love with Weiss – it was completely different than he felt for the German boy – however... he was very much in love with the way Weiss felt about him. The way no other person would ever feel about him...And he really wanted someone to feel that way for him. 

Almost trembling from the mixture of emotions, Tom slowly closed his eyes as the man's warm hand caressed over his cheek, just as their lips were about to touch.


	46. Chapter 46

"I want to go to Iran," Tom whispered, causing Jörg to pause dead.

"What?" He whispered just as quietly, pulling away and opening his eyes to look down at Tom who slowly opened his eyes too to look up at him.

"I want to go to Iran," the boy repeated, a bit louder this time.

Jörg stared at him in disbelief – that had been a rather bad moment to say that. "Why?"

"I want you to help me kill Soroush," Tom mumbled quietly, giving him an uncertain glance.

Nodding absently, Jörg got up, walking away. What had he been thinking?!

~*~

Tom closed his eyes as he heard the man leaving the room. 'Stupid idiot,' he thought at himself. Why hadn't he let the man kiss him? It's not like he had ever wanted that before but... Weiss was most likely the only person in the world who would ever have the desire to kiss him – why had he interrupted that?!

Though he had never had the desire to kiss Weiss, now that the situation had presented itself, he dearly regretted having turned him down. Weiss wasn't exactly what Tom would have chosen in his earlier life, but he was the only person who would ever care about him, and as much as he hated to admit it, he had also come to care for the man. And besides... Weiss wasn't a bad choice; over the past few months, but especially since England, the assassin had become more than Tom had ever thought he would find in a person – be it a friend or otherwise.

But knowing Weiss, this situation would probably never repeat itself and Tom would die lonely and miserable. Kinda like he lived...

But he had been too scared of what would happen after the kiss – what else would Weiss want? Though Tom was all for the kiss, he wasn't ready for anything that might follow that, but he knew that's not how it worked – grown-ups didn't just kiss randomly... They moved a lot farther and Tom wasn't willing to do that, so it was better this way. Right?   
It's not like he wanted to... do anything else with Weiss. No, he was definitely not ready for that.

He had long ago learned that sex could be enjoyed by both people involved, but he didn't think it was suitable for him – the mere thought terrified him beyond reason and it was not something he ever wanted to do and he really didn't want to lead Weiss on, so this was the only option. The in-between thing that he really wanted just wasn't an option.

~*~

Angrily, Jörg slammed the door to his room, locking himself in. How could he be so stupid? How could he have misread the boy's signals so wrong? Of course Tom didn't want anything from him – that was crazy!   
Well, at least Tom had stopped him before he ended up doing something the poor kid would have hated him for again.

With a sigh, he dropped down on his bed, staring miserably up at the wooden ceiling. He was uncertain whether he was upset due to his own stupidity, or if he was more hurt at the rejection than he wanted to admit; of course he'd been turned down before, but never by someone he bothered to look twice at. He had never cared enough to be upset about a rejection because usually it was just for a fling, but this... this was something new to him. And it was horrible.   
Of course Tom had often been a source of misery, but this time it was a bit different; this time he didn't feel guilty or like a horrible person, he just felt sad. It was almost funny.

In an attempt to not dwell on his pathetic misery, Jörg forced his thoughts over to a far more important matter: Soroush. Over the past few years, he had often thought about it and whether Tom would ever wish to return there to kill him, but it had never been an issue until now. Generally, it shouldn't be a problem – it's not like Soroush was such a hard target – but Jörg was worried over the effect that going back there would have on Tom. He had hoped Tom would forget about it and move on – which would have been far better for the kid's mental health – but obviously that wasn't the case, and it worried Jörg to no end because he knew what a psychopath Tom could be if the occasion called for it. And this occasion most certainly did call for it.

He almost felt sorry for Soroush, weren't it for the fact that the bastard deserved whatever Tom had in store for him. Did Tom have something planned? Surely he wouldn't just shoot Soroush and get it over with, right? Jörg most certainly wouldn't, were he in Tom's place... And knowing how twisted Tom was, worried Jörg; what would Tom do? Would it be worse for Tom or Soroush on the long run...?

Jörg himself had gone through a couple of 'revenge acts', and looking back on them, they had probably harmed him more than anyone else. Even if at the time they had made him feel better... And had he not done them, he would have probably looked back on it forever.   
Whatever. Tom could handle it. It's not like the kid had a conscience or anything.

~*~

As lunch drew nearer, Tom got more and more awkward that day; should he just act as if nothing had happened?   
Probably. It's not like he could do much else, right?

Just like every day, he went to the kitchen at 13:30 to eat with Weiss, who had prepared lunch all alone today because Tom had been upstairs, avoiding him.   
As he entered, the assassin was just finishing mixing the salad which he placed on the table as Tom sat down.

"I spoke to Brian earlier. He said we could drop by whenever," Weiss informed him as he sat down and they began eating.

"Who?" Tom asked confused.

"Brian Crowley – you met him in Iran a few years ago – he made your passport. Remember?"

Tom did remember. He also remembered the very humiliating coke incident; a drink he was rather fond of by now. "Oh, yes."

"He's got all the gear we'll be using over there and can provide us with a transport," Weiss continued while they ate. "Have you got a plan?"

Tom knew what the man was referring to: had he made up his mind about how to kill him. Tom hadn't because he had thought of so many different ways he couldn't choose one.

"I'll wing it." He shrugged.

The man frowned a bit but said nothing about it; Tom knew Weiss wasn't a big fan of improvising because it was dangerous and unpredictable, but Tom really didn't know what to tell him.

"If we leave on Thursday we can be back by Monday and pass it off as a weekend holiday," Weiss began the organization. It was the first time they did a personal target; Tom was nervous beyond reason even though they hadn't left the house yet.

"We'll stay in Chabahar, from where we'll drive to Soroush's place – it's about an hour away, unless he moved. I haven't heard anything about Soroush ever since, so maybe he's not there anymore," Weiss said thoughtfully; Tom hadn't even thought about that.

"Can't you ask Brian?" It would be pretty dumb if they flew half across the globe just to find out Soroush wasn't there anymore.

"As corrupt as Brian may be, he's not involved in human trafficking and child slavery - he can't help us find Soroush." Weiss shook his head.

"What does Brian do?" Tom hadn't actually thought about that man ever since they had left Iran over two years ago.

"He's an arms dealer – old friend of mine. Of course he also deals with all sorts of other things – documents, drugs, or other illegal goods."

Tom frowned. "People are also illegal goods." Tom himself had been shipped from one country to another by a man who dealt with illegal goods such as drugs and weapons, too.

The man paused his eating to give him a sharp look. "Brian doesn't deal with that kind of stuff."

"How do you know?" Tom retorted in the same tone. Was there a chance Brian was involved with the people who had shipped Tom to Iran all those years ago?

"We've known each other for over 15 years – trust me, I know," Weiss said firmly.

Tom nodded, despite not believing it; by now he well knew how little you could truly know a person.

~*~

Jörg stared down at his plate; could Tom have a point?  
He honestly had no idea if Brian might be involved in something like that – he had never even thought about it until now. Could it be that human trafficking was also part of Brian's very dubious job? Was the man responsible for fates such as Tom's?

The mere thought made Jörg want to kill his old friend. As much as he valued his scarce friendship with Brian, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him if he found that the American was involved in something like that.

Which made him think back at that Iranian police chief he had killed to protect Soroush... Something he now greatly regretted. What had he been thinking?!   
Nothing – he hadn't thought about it at all because it had been just another job... A job he didn't want to do anymore. The longer he knew Tom, the more he regretted his own life and every choice he had ever made.   
Hopefully he wouldn't have to do this job a lot longer... Of course Tom had set him back a few years, given all the money he already spent on the kid, but maybe he could change his initial plan by lowering the starting capital by a few thousand... He had intended to retire by the time he had saved 1,5 million dollars, which would have been enough to provide him with a comfortable life – with the right investment – but now that Tom was here, maybe he had to cut back on a hundred thousand or so. Not because that was the amount he had already spent on the boy, but also because he really didn't want to do this anymore.

"I'll be upstairs," Tom said quietly as he got up and deposited his dishes in the sink.

"Wait a minute," Jörg stopped him, making up his mind. "I have a book I want you to read." He had no idea if Tom was still too young for this kind of literature – he knew the boy would be bored to death – but he had spent the entire day thinking of Soroush's fate, and what consequences the man's death would have upon Tom's conscience; this type of job wasn't good for the boy either.

"Oh. About what?" Tom asked curiously. So far the only books Jörg had ever given him had been either for school or about weapons.

"About an alternative income." The topic was too vast to simply explain in a few words.

~*~

Tom got very intrigued as Weiss got up and motioned for him to follow into the living room. 'Alternative income', what did that mean? An alternative to what? Killing people? Tom really wanted an alternative like that...

Weiss retrieved a book from one of the shelves; Tom had seen it before but never paid any attention to it because it was just one more from the large amount they had. It was called 'Rule Number 1'. That didn't sound very alternative to what they did now; it immediately reminded him of one of his favorite books: One Shot-One Kill.

Tom took the book and gave the assassin a curious look. "What is this?"

"It's my retirement plan. And unless you want to keep killing people, or slave away 40 hours a week, you should consider it." Weiss shrugged, returning to the kitchen to finish his lunch.

Curiously, Tom turned the book around to read the summary. He didn't really want to keep killing people forever, and the whole 'working 40 hours a week to make someone else rich' wasn't really something he wanted to do either.

The book turned out to be about investing... Tom had no idea what that meant. Investing what in what? Well whatever it was, he would give it a shot.


	47. Chapter 47

And so, on Thursday morning, Tom was back at the airport, about to board a plane back to the country he most feared and hated in the world.

Despite the flight being quite long, it seemed a lot shorter than it had when they had come here and passed without a fuss. By now, Tom was quite used to flying (and to juice) so there was nothing out of the ordinary and after countless exhausting hours, they finally exited the small airport in Chabahar.

“Brian is picking us up,” Weiss told him as they retrieved their little luggage.

Tom nodded slowly following the assassin until they met Crowley who exchanged a few pleasantries with Weiss before smiling at Tom.

“Hey kid, how’s America treating you?” He asked with a grin.

Tom nodded. “It’s nice. Thanks,” he said politely. He still hadn’t forgotten that conversation where he had found out what this man may or may not do for a living.

“Great. Let’s go. You guys must be dead tired. I thought we’d stop somewhere to grab some food before we head home so you guys can get some rest, what d’ya say?” The American continued merrily.

“Sounds good.” Weiss nodded as he placed his luggage in the back of Crowley’s pickup, where it was soon joined by Tom’s bag.

Tom sat on the rather cramped backseat, despite there being three seats in the front; he just didn’t want to sit so close to Weiss right now. Things were still kinda weird between them from that near-kiss-thingy.

“So what are you guys doing here? Important client?” Crowley asked casually as they pulled into the main road that looked a lot less menacing than Tom remembered.

“You could say that…” Weiss said quietly, without elaborating on the situation; did he not want to talk about him?

The rest of the short journey passed with random chatter from the two men who discussed some king of new grenade some weapon industry was developing, or something, Tom wasn’t really paying attention because he was captivated by the sudden, exotic beauty of the place.   
Iran had always seemed so hostile and scary to him, but suddenly he saw things he had never noticed before.

Even though he would never live here by choice because it was too hot and the landscape too bare for his taste, he did quite enjoy passing through. It had a unique charm that he hadn’t seen anywhere else because they mostly travelled America and Europe, and despite having lived in Iran a few years, he had never perceived it like this.

Even the small, roadside restaurant they stopped at, looked interesting and exciting, so unlike all the places in his memory from which’s dumpsters he stole food and then got chased around and beaten if caught. The entire world was different now that he wasn’t an unwanted street child anymore.

 

~*~

Relieved, Jörg finally watched Tom retreating into the study he was sleeping in. He had been worried how returning here would affect him, but the boy seemed quite composed.

“So what are you really doing here?” Brian asked quietly, startling Jörg a little who had been caught up in his worries.

“We came to kill a few people…” Jörg eyed him suspiciously, trying to determine whether his friend could be involved in something like that or not.

“Obviously - it’s not like you came for a holiday,” Brian chuckled, giving him a look. “You really think it’s wise to bring the boy back here?”

“I didn’t bring him – he brought me. He wants to kill his old owner… And possibly a bunch of other people who may be responsible for that.” Was Brian one of those?

The American raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you work for that guy once?”

“Yes – so?” Jörg asked coldly; it’s not like Soroush had been his friend or anything.

“Just asking!” Brian chuckled. “Don’t get all defensive on me. What’s gotten you in such a bad mood lately?”

“Do you know him?” There was really no point in talking around it; if Brian was involved in this, Jörg would find out and kill him, friendship be damned.

“I’m not really involved with child slavery, Jörg,” Brian said with a frown, looking slightly offended.

“Really? Cuz those children get here in the same fashion that all your ‘goods’ do.” Jörg was aware he was making a very heavy accusation, but didn’t care.

Brian’s frown deepened further and crossed his arms. “Are you trying to insinuate something?”

“No. I’m asking you straight out: are you involved in child trafficking?” Jörg asked harshly; this was probably not the way to treat their host…

“No. I’m not. I might deal with drugs, weapons, money and all other sorts of illegal things, but I don’t deal with human beings,” Brian replied in a surprisingly calm fashion. “Nor am I associated or friends with anyone who does, however I have come across them. I don’t know Soroush or whatever dealer he gets his merchandise from-”

“ _Merchandise_?!” Jörg barked angrily. “Those are children, Brian!”

“Call them what you will, Jörg. It’s a business here. One that I’m not involved in, but sadly exists and I sometimes run into. I’m not a police officer, nor am I a politician – I don’t get involved in other people’s deals, and I don’t want them involved in mine. I’m truly sorry about the boy, or any other child in his position, but realistically seen, there’s nothing I can do about it so don’t try to guilt trip me into something,” Brian finished coldly.

He was right. None of that was Brian’s fault… It was Jörg himself who had contributed to it by killing the one police man who was trying to fight it…

“Sorry, man,” He apologized quietly, shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”

Brian smiled a bit. “Don’t worry. I would also flip out if someone I cared about had been subjected to something like that… Maybe I was wrong about you; looks like you did a pretty good job with that kid.”

Jörg forced a smile; if only that were so…

“You said you sometimes run into sharks?” A whole new idea just occurred to Jörg.

“Rarely. There’s not a lot of them around. Why?” Brian asked curiously as he began putting away random dishes that had been drying in his kitchen.

“Do you think you can find the one who brought Tom here?” Maybe there was some way for Tom to find some closure.

Brian gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you kidding? I know that Tom is important to you and all, but… well… seen from a dealer’s perspective… he’s just one more kid. I really don’t think these people keep any detailed records of these things.”

“No, but he’s an Irish kid who came from Japan. That’s quite out of the ordinary. Can’t you just listen around a bit, see if you can find something? It doesn’t have to be now – just maybe at some point?” Jörg was well aware it was a slim chance, but who knew, maybe they’d get lucky.

“All right, I’ll keep my ears open but… don’t get your hopes up.” Brian shrugged.

“Thanks.” Jörg nodded.

“You could also ask Soroush who his dealer is before you kill him. He might not remember exactly which one Tom came from, but there’s a rather limited amount of sharks so if you have a name, I might be luckier,” Brian suggested.

“Oh yeah… Unless of course Tom kills him at first sight… He’s a little psychotic, I fear.” Jörg sighed tiredly, running a hand through his hair. He was dreading tomorrow already.

The American chuckled. “Big shocker there…”

Jörg groaned. “I’m going to bed.”

 

 

~*~

The following day, Tom sat anxiously next to the older assassin, watching the landscape passing by. None of it seemed familiar to him at all.   
He had thought that once he was here, he would immediately recognize the place and instinctively find his way to kill the man he hated, but that wasn’t the case at all.

“So how do we go about this?” Weiss asked after a few minutes of silent driving. The large bags in their trunks indicated that the man was prepared for whatever eventualities may come up, given Tom had no plan at all; for some odd reason he hadn’t dared to seriously think about it yet.

“I don’t know…” He eventually mumbled; so far, it had actually always been Weiss planning their jobs. Of course Tom had often watched and knew how it went, but right now he was completely lost.

“Usually, we would spend a few days observing the target to find the perfect moment to take them out – preferably when we catch them somewhere alone, with no witnesses – but of course we don’t have time for that right now, so our best chance would be to sneak in, eliminate him quietly and sneak back out before anyone notices us. The house is dark and big, with lots of small, isolated rooms that give plenty of space for hiding so-”

“No,” Tom interrupted him. “We’ll kill every person inside that building. Aside from whatever kids are there, of course.”

Weiss turned to give him an undefined look. “You want to kill all of Soroush’s guards? There are at least 30 other people inside that house…”

“So?” Tom asked blankly.

Weiss looked slightly uncomfortable. “You can’t just kill them all, Tom,” He said quietly.

“Why not?” Tom really wanted to kill them all. “They work for Soroush – they deserve to die.”

“It’s not up to us to judge who deserves to die and who doesn’t. It’s not right to kill so many people just because they happen to be around your target. We have to try and keep the death toll to a minimum.”

Tom laughed harshly at the man’s worried words. “Don’t talk to me about ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, you hypocrite!” He snarled angrily. “You worked for Soroush – I can only imagine the kind of things you did for him, so don’t you dare try to lecture me on what’s right!”

Obviously he had struck a nerve because Weiss just nodded. “So what do you want to do?”

“Lure the guards out, kill as many as we can, follow the rest inside and kill them all there or something.” Tom shrugged, but Weiss shook his head.

“That’s a terrible plan – we’ll be killed. We’re vastly outnumbered. We need a strategy.”

“Like what?” Tom honestly had no idea and right now he was far too upset to think rationally.

“We’ll do it quietly and-”

“Soroush’s death is not going to be quiet. Every person in that building is going to hear it,” Tom said quietly; he wasn’t sure what exactly he intended to do to the man, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be fast and painless.

Weiss turned to give him a worried glance. “We are here to _kill_ Soroush though, right?”

“Eventually.” Tom nodded.

The man sighed with a nod. “Fine. We’ll go in quietly and take out any guard who crosses our path to find Soroush. You can take care of him, while I’ll handle whatever other people try to intervene, okay?”

~*~

Jörg really didn’t want to see whatever the boy had in store; he would much rather wait outside the room and kill anyone who approached it. At this point he would have much rather turned around and driven back home, but they had come too far… And he wasn’t entirely sure the kid wouldn’t shoot him if he attempted to get out of this. What had he gotten himself into?!  
This was bound to get ugly…

“That works. But we should still make sure to take out enough on our way in, or there will be too many and it’ll be dangerous, right?” Tom finally seemed to get his head in the game and weigh out the dangers this idiotic plan carried.

“Yes. We also have to find Soroush because we have no idea where he could be,” Jörg pointed out.

“I’m sure the guards will be happy to help us.” Tom smiled sardonically, causing a chill to run up Jörg’s spine. What kind of monster had he created?


	48. Chapter 48

Tom took a deep breath of the hot air as he exited the car, just a few hundred feet from Soroush’s estate. Now this place he recognized. It looked exactly the way it always had. A typical Persian mansion that showed nothing of the horrors that went on behind closed doors.

This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for since he was 9 years old. So why was he hesitating?   
With a frown, Tom realized he was scared. What if things went wrong and he ended up right where he had started from? What if everything went back to the way it had once been? What if Soroush captured him? …What if something happened to Weiss…?

He rolled his eyes at himself. That would never happen. He wasn’t 9 anymore. He had undergone years of intense training – there was no way anyone would ever force him back into a life like that, and Weiss a fantastic fighter who could take care of himself.

With a determined nod, he grabbed his bag and joined Weiss by the trunk where the man was gearing up.

“What’s in the bag?” Weiss asked surprised.

“Things,” Tom replied calmly. “What’s in all those bags?” He asked in return; they usually never took so much stuff with them.

“Things,” Weiss said drily, opening the bag closest to him to reveal weapons.

“What?” Tom asked in disbelief. “What is that?” They never used guns like these… Usually they had sniper rifles, maybe a gun and a knife or two, but never something like this.

“G36 HK assault rifle, MP5 machine guns, grenades, standard Glock 17, stun grenades…” Weiss commented slowly while he opened the bags. “And plenty of ammunition.” He opened the last bag.

“W-what?” Tom stuttered. “Is that a drum magazine?!” He’d never even seen one of those live before.

“Yes, for the G36. Have you ever read anything on it?”

“No,” Tom said slowly. He knew the rifle existed, but he had no detailed information on it whatsoever. They had never shot with full automatic weapons before.

“HK stands for Heckler and Koch – a German weapon producer I’m sure you’ve heard of. The G36 has three fire modes.” Weiss indicated on the rifle. “Semi-automatic; meaning one single shot like you’re used to. Burst; meaning three shots with one pull. And fully-automatic; meaning you press the trigger and it will keep firing until you remove your finger or the magazine is empty. The standard magazine has 30 shots – the drum has 150. Caliber is 5,56x45.” After explaining, he handed Tom the rifle.

It was much lighter than the ones he was used to, and made of metal and plastic rather than metal and wood, like most of their sniper rifles; it looked really modern. Quite ugly in comparison to the usual rifles they had, in Tom’s opinion, but he still adored it immediately due to its ability.

“This,” Weiss continued, “Is the MP5 – also from HK – and is a submachine gun; meaning it also has full-auto mode and single shots. The S here stands for _Safe_ ; no shots.” Again he indicated where the switch was to change between modes. “It has a 30 shot magazine and a standard 9x19 caliber like the Glocks we use.”

Tom placed the assault rifle aside to inspect the gun; it looked like the ones he had seen in action movies. Why had they never practiced with anything like this? It looked so awesome…

“Ordinary hand grenades,” Weiss continued, barely giving Tom time to admire the new weapons. “Less lethal than people think - mostly designed to injure, scare and surprise people. In order to actually kill someone with a grenade you would have to place it rather close to their body because the blast from a grenade is not very strong so most of the time you just injure someone. There’s no giant explosion like the ones you see in movies and most of the injuries people attain from them are small splinters – if you throw one, make sure you have full cover first or you will be covered in iron splinters yourself.” Weiss handed him an entire bundle with at least 5 grenades on it that had a hook to be strapped onto something. “Pull the safety pin and the let lever jump away; you have 8 seconds before it detonates so make sure you don’t hold it longer than 4 -5 seconds at the most before throwing.”

Tom nodded, taking the grenades; he had never thrown one before.

“Stun grenades.” Weiss lifted another bundle of grenades out of the bag, though they looked a bit different. “Also known as flash bangs, they have small, extremely loud and bright explosions. They don’t injure much but they will leave you deaf and blind for a few seconds if you don’t take cover. _Always_ tell me if you’re going to throw one when I’m near you – same goes for grenades of course – and make sure you cover your ears and turn your eyes away or it will stun you as much as it stuns your opponent.”

Tom took the grenades from him, attaching them to the straps on his jacket together with the others; it was starting to get kinda heavy. Especially once Weiss handed him all the magazines that Tom stuffed into the many pockets his clothes offered; gearing up was always a tedious process, but never as much as today because they usually never carried this much with them.

“I never trained with any of these,” Tom said slowly while he placed the two Glocks 17 with the silencers in the holster he carried around his chest; they were the only weapons he actually knew how to use.

“Because we don’t usually need these.” Weiss shrugged, adjusting his own weapons.

“Why not?” Tom wished they had trained a little before all this so he would at least know what to expect from the weapons.

“Because our job is quiet. One shot – one kill. We wait for our target, eliminate it and leave before anyone even finds out. We don’t lead open battles. Even if we have a confrontation, it’s close range combat so we don’t need these kinds of weapons under normal circumstances,” Weiss explained, handing Tom a set of knives.

~*~

Jörg was well aware what he was asking of the boy: to go into a fight with weapons he was unfamiliar with, but they had no choice. They were completely unprepared for this; this whole thing was such a bad idea.

“Don’t worry,” he said quietly, trying to ease the boy’s worries. “It’s not difficult. There’s barely any recoil and nothing much to watch out for. You’ll get the hang right away. With automatic weapons you don’t really aim so don’t bother with precise hits – just point in the general direction and use full-auto mode.”

“Like they do in movies?” Tom asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, kinda like that except you need to wear ear protection or you will be deaf by the end of the day.” He handed the boy a few earplugs.

“But I won’t be able to hear anything else then,” Tom objected.

“Believe me, everyone else is going to be half deaf and will be screaming around due to all the noise anyway – there’s no silent sound you need to be listening to in a situation like this.” This was going to be awful… Jörg hated fights like these…

The boy nodded, taking the two sets of corded earplugs from him.

“Alright, so here’s what’s going to happen,” Weiss began with his plan because the whole ‘winging it’ thing was rubbish. “We’ll go in as quietly as possible and silently eliminate anyone who gets in our way. It won’t take long until someone notices us, at which point you will go search for Soroush and I’ll give you cover. Time is essential because the moment Soroush finds out he’s being attacked, he will do his best to get out of there so we need to hurry. Don’t waste ammo but don’t save it either.” Jörg closed the trunk of the car once they were fully geared and began heading towards the building.

“Shouldn’t we be hiding?” Tom asked nervously, trying to accommodate all his heavy weapons and the bag he had slung over his shoulder.

“We are hiding – in plain sight. If we try to sneak to the house and someone sees us, they will be alarmed, but if we approach it casually, they won’t pay any attention whatsoever,” Jörg commented while they walked around the bushes and trees that cut the sight from the car. “No one expects a random assault in the middle of the day from two people casually walking around.”

“But we’re walking around with guns and rifles,” Tom whispered as the house came into view.

“Which is even more confusing,” Jörg chuckled, gesturing with his head towards the man sitting in front of the gate, reading his newspaper. “Watch.”

They approached the man who slowly lifted his head, staring at the them while they strolled up to him; he didn’t move or say anything.

~*~

Tom wanted to scream; why were they standing in front of the enemy like this?! The man was just looking at them without doing anything.

“Hi there,” Weiss said pleasantly, waving as they came to a halt in front of the man who got up with a raised eyebrow.

“Can I help you?” He said in terrible English, staring at their weapons.

“We’re looking for Soroush – is he around?” Weis continued in his casual, friendly manner.

“Oh. Yes. I’ll call him,” the man said nervously, turning away to call at someone.

“No need, thank you,” Weiss said politely, pulling out his gun and shooting him in the head before the man had a chance to react.

Tom flinched as the back of the man’s head suddenly exploded from the silenced bullet that hit his forehead, splattering bone and brain tissue all over the place. A little warning would have been nice… Though he should have seen it coming.

“Shall we?” Weiss asked passively, taking the keys from the man’s dead body to unlock the gate.

Not like Tom could say much, so he followed him in silence into the large, empty hall that sent shivers down Tom’s spine. Even the smell in here made him sick.

The moment Weiss shut the front gate, another guard came out of a room to see what was going on, but before he could make a single comment, both Weiss and Tom shot him in the head, given he was just three feet away from them.   
Weiss raised an eyebrow, giving him a look, but Tom shrugged; he’d been startled.

Just a split second later, another man rushed out of the same door, crying out in panic but his cry was cut short by Weiss punching him first in the face and then kicking him in the stomach. The guard immediately fought back, aiming a hit at Weiss who managed to block it, pulling out a knife to attack him, but the guard managed to ward him off.

“We don’t have time for this,” Tom grumbled while the two men fought. He pulled out his own knife and waited for the opportune moment to ram it into the man’s side. The guard screamed for a second, but it was cut off again, this time by Weiss’ knife that cut through his carotid artery right to his vocal cords, effectively silencing him as he sank to the ground, slowly bleeding to death.   
Weiss ended up shooting the struggling man in the head; Tom was always surprised at the assassin’s humane way of killing. It was as if Weiss didn’t even enjoy seeing people in pain…

They continued down the hall towards a room from which they heard voices, but Weiss gestured at him to keep walking past the closed door towards the countless other rooms and halls from which a random man suddenly emerged. He wasn’t a guard though, but a customer, judging by the fact that he was unarmed and fixing his clothes after exiting one of the small rooms.  
The three of them paused, the man looking confused and uncertain.

“Hi,” Tom decided to try the same Weiss had done earlier and approached the man with a smile he hoped wasn’t filled with hatred. The man gave him a stunned look, but Tom had reached him already and then kicked him in the face before he managed to say anything.

The man cried out in pain and surprise as he stumbled back a bit before Tom tackled him to the floor, punching and kicking him in blind anger.

“Hey!” Weiss interrupted. “Stop it!” He pulled Tom back, but Tom pushed him away trying to jump the horrified man again.

“I’m going to kill you, you sick son of a-!”

“Kid!” Weiss said loudly, yanking him back and shooting the man who screamed out. “What happened to the plan of being quiet?” Weiss asked annoyed, but before Tom could reply, all hell suddenly broke loose as guards began swarming the hall and Weiss pulled him into one of the small rooms to keep them from getting hit by any of the bullets that were suddenly all over the place.

“Focus, kid!” Weiss snapped in annoyance, pulling out the assault rifle with the drum magazine attached to it. “Earplugs,” he ordered while fixing his own.

Tom was completely riled up; he was so angry he just wanted to kill every person inside the building and his blood was so adrenalin overloaded he could barely think straight.


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone ^^  
> I just wanted to give you a little heads up on a slightly disturbing scene at the end of the chapter. It's nothing too terrible but I still wanted to let you know in case you had issues with torture and stuff. Feel free to skip the last ten paragraphs or so - they don't contain anything crucial to understanding the plot of the story.  
> I hope you enjoy despite this chapter not being all that enjoyable O-O;;

“Gun!” Weiss ordered, holding the assault rifle out the door and firing.

Tom covered his ears, having ignored the earplug order; the sound was impossibly loud and left his ears ringing painfully. This was so not how it was in the movies… Shakily, he stuffed the earplugs into his ears as Weiss took a break from the fire for a moment.

“Let’s go!” Weiss called at him, pulling him out the door while he shot to give them cover; despite the earplugs, the firing was incredibly loud.  
There were already various dead and injured around from the rapid fire, but Tom didn’t have time to pay attention to the wounded, screaming men all around as they made their way towards the staircase. The fire exchange ceased rather quickly because the few guards that had survived this round had retreated to get back-up, giving them a chance to move forward.

Tom stumbled up the stairs, trying to get away from the guards downstairs, only to encounter two others on the second floor, both of whom immediately opened fire; luckily, they only had a couple of semi-automatic guns.

“Gun, Tom!” Weiss called again; Tom was so shocked he had completely forgotten that he also carried weapons. Ones he really wanted to use.

It was the perfect moment to try out the MP5. Tom pulled it over his shoulder and switched the mode to full-auto, but by the time he was finally ready to shoot, Weiss had already taken out both guards and dragged him down the dark hall where they encountered various terrified customers that Tom really wanted to kill but had no time for so they ran downstairs in panic.

“We need to find Soroush. Do you have any idea where he could be?” Weiss asked while they ducked into a room, trying to avoid the fresh set of guards that ran up the stairs.

“No. I don’t know,” Tom shook his head, panting from the adrenalin.

“We need a living guard to ask him,” Weiss said shortly, blindly shooting around the corner of the door towards the staircase from which fire immediately returned.

Tom nodded shakily, not knowing how they should proceed from here; this would never work.

“Cover your ears and close your eyes,” Weiss commanded, pulling a stun grenade from the string and tossing it out into the hallway before covering his ears and turning his face away from the door.  
Even though Tom did as told, the explosion was still amazingly loud and bright, rumbling through him like a close thunder.

“Move!” Weiss yelled, grabbing his arm and dragging him out into the hall where they encountered four guards, all of whom were groaning and rubbing either their eyes or ears.

Weiss grabbed the closest guard, dragging him into another room. “Shoot the others!” He ordered while he disappeared into the room.

Tom decided to try out the machine gun. Even though his finger barely grazed the trigger, the gun shot out such a fast round that all men dropped dead in cold blood before Tom even realized it and released the trigger in shock. This was definitely different than anything else he had ever used.

Not wanting to stare at the bloody mess he had made, he quickly joined Weiss in the other room where the assassin was restraining the struggling man that had almost recovered from the stun.

“Soroush – where is he?” Weiss demanded, giving the man a shake, but he just tried to free himself instead of answering.

“We don’t have time for this,” Tom growled angrily, pulling out a knife and stabbing it into the man’s thigh.

Weiss raised an eyebrow as the man screamed out in agony.

“Where is he?!” Tom asked angrily, twisting the knife inside the man’s leg.

The man cried something in Persian, pointing up.

“Great. Upstairs,” Weiss growled, pulling his gun back out and shooting the pleading man. “Let’s hurry.”

Tom nodded, following him out into the blood covered hall, towards the next set of stairs.  
On the next floor another batch of guards was waiting for them, one which had an assault rifle similar to theirs and opened fire as soon as he spotted them.  
Weiss pulled him back into the staircase and reloaded his own machine gun.

“Run down the hall – I’ll give you cover,” Weiss pointed towards the side without guards.

“What?” Tom asked horrified; he was supposed to run into an open hall with someone firing at him?

“Now!” Weiss pushed him out into the hall at the same time as he began firing, forcing the others to take cover so Tom could dash down the hall and around a corner while Weiss emptied his magazine.

Breathlessly, Tom ran through the corridors, suddenly terrified; Weiss was somewhere back there, leaving him all alone. He had no idea how to handle a situation like this…  
Shakily he removed the earplugs to listen, but the only sound he could hear was the battle raging on behind him.

Terrified, he paused at a random door and opened it to sneak inside as he heard guards running his way; he had plenty of weapons but was too scared to use them, so he waited while they ran past the door without knowing he was in there, and contemplated what he should do; he wanted to stay here and hide.

Shakily he turned around, nearly screaming as he saw a boy sitting behind him on the bed, staring up at him. For a few seconds they just stood there, neither moving or saying anything until the silence was interrupted by a loud explosion from one of Weiss’ stun grenades.

“Um,” Tom muttered. “You should probably leave,” he said stupidly. “But maybe not right now because you’ll get killed, but maybe a bit later…” Why was he even telling the boy this? He probably couldn’t even understand him. But seeing the abused child replaced Tom’s fear with new hatred, and he dashed back out into the empty hall, running in the direction the guards had come from.

The entire commotion seemed to be revolving around Weiss because this part of the house was rather quiet; maybe no one had noticed that he had come this way?

He paused dead as he heard another set of guards coming down the hall and he hid in one of the board doorframes, pulling out the Glock with the silencer. The men hurried down the hall with their weapons ready, past Tom without seeing him, which gave him the perfect opportunity to shoot them in the back; three bullets each. Though they cried out, their cries were lost in another explosion from Weiss, and Tom quickly hurried along. The guards must be coming from somewhere… Maybe Soroush?

It wasn’t long before he reached a large door at the end of the corridor, from which he heard loud voices. The door was ajar, but too far closed for him to be able to see inside.

Tom stuffed the earplugs back into his ears and then pulled a stun grenade from the string, waiting two seconds before tossing it through the slit in the door. Inside the room someone screamed hysterically, but Tom barely heard it because he was covering his ears, his face turned away from the door with his eyes firmly shut. A moment later, the loud explosion and the flash rocked his world, followed by loud screaming and groaning from inside the room.

He knew he only had a few moments before they recuperated, so he stormed into the room with both guns in his hands. There were five people inside the room, two of which lay on the ground groaning, and three still standing; Tom shot two of them with seven bullets, not touching the other that let his blood run cold.

For a moment he stood unmoving as he watched Soroush rubbing his eyes and fumbling around for a gun. Tom recuperated from his shock before Soroush did, and shot the other two guards on the ground before walking towards Soroush who had found his gun and waved it around blindly, unsure where to shoot.

Tom knocked the man’s gun aside, kicking him in the stomach with such force that the elderly man staggered back and stumbled over the corpse of one of his guards, all the while asking something Persian Tom couldn’t understand.

“I don’t speak Persian,” he said coldly, kicking the gun away so Soroush wouldn’t be able to reach it once he fully regained his sight.

“Who the hell are you? What do you want?” Soroush asked panicked, blinking up at him; apparently his sight was returning.

Tom took the moment to give him another kick in the stomach that left the man gasping for air before Tom kicked him the head, nearly knocking him out.

Soroush was so dazed it gave Tom plenty of time to unpack his bag and remove the ropes he now wound around the man’s wrists, tying him to the heavy, iron table in the back of the room.

“What…?” Soroush groaned. “What do you want? Do you want money? I have a lot of money!” He pleaded groggily.

Tom laughed bitterly. “Don’t you recognize me?” He asked angrily.

Soroush blinked up at him in confusion. “No. Who are you?” He asked slowly.

“I’ll make you a deal: if you can remember who I am, I’ll let you die,” Tom sneered; how dare Soroush forget about him…

The man’s eyes widened in fear as Tom pulled out an axe from the bag, together with various other things. “Here’s what we’re going to do: I’m going to chop of random body parts and you try to remember who I am. Don’t worry, of course I’ll make sure to bind your wounds to keep you from losing too much blood – we wouldn’t want you dying away on me, now would we?” He chuckled, kneeling down next to the struggling man.

“You’re crazy! Stop! Help! Guards!” Soroush screamed hysterically.

Tom just laughed, so pumped up with fear, hatred and adrenalin he barely realized his own actions. It was like watching a movie in slow-motion; he was almost unaware that the hands holding the hunting knife were his own, as he cut away the man’s clothing, starting with his sweaty shirt that was speckled with blood dripping from his nose where Tom had kicked him earlier.

“You’re even older and more despicable than I remember,” Tom said in disgust, dragging the knife down the groaning man’s stomach, slicing easily through his skin until he reached the man’s waistband and stopped, trying to remember all the things he had fantasized of doing to him if he ever got the chance.

Soroush pulled on the ropes and screamed for help again, but Tom just gave him a hefty kick to his side to shut him up before cutting away the rest of his clothes and yanking them off his body to leave him naked.

“You crazy psycho! What the fuck do you want?!” Soroush yelled in a mixture of anger and fear.

“Really?” Tom said amused. “ _You’re_ calling _me_ a psycho?” He laughed, approaching the man who kicked at him, hitting him in the chin.

“Ah!” Tom snarled angrily, pulling out his gun and shooting the man in the leg that had kicked him.

Soroush screamed in agony, trying to curl up, but Tom yanked on his injured leg, tying a rope around his ankles to keep him immobile.

“What do you want?” Soroush asked again, more desperately than before.

“I want to hurt you,” Tom said quietly, staring down at him.

“No, please. I’ll do anything!” The man pleaded, “I have a lot of money – everyone has a price, just name yours!”

Tom barked a cold laugh. “My price is your head – severed from your body!” He snapped angrily. “But we should start out with something a little more fun,” He continued gleefully. “I actually have a couple of really nice ideas. Would you like to hear them?” Twirling around the knife in his hand, Tom sat down on the floor next to the man who was staring at him with terrified eyes.

“So I was thinking I should start with your dick. It should also give you a pretty good hint as to who I am,” Tom chuckled, running the blade up the man’s thigh.

“Get away from me, you crazy son of a bitch!” Soroush screamed horrified, trying to move away but unable due to the ropes retraining him.

Tom laughed hysterically, grasping the man’s penis and beginning to cut it at the base while the man screamed so loudly Tom’s ears hurt. It was actually a lot more difficult to cut than Tom had thought; the tissue was so… chewy.

“Stop! Please!” Soroush screamed while Tom cut around clumsily, trying to detach it from the body.

“Got it!” He finally said triumphantly, holding up the man’s bloody cock for him to see while he screamed and pleaded in torment. “Come now Soroush – you were always so fond of bringing pain. Can’t take any yourself?” Tom teased, crawling up to his face that was contorted in pain.

Soroush was gasping for air and groaning, so Tom took the opportunity to violently shove the man’s penis in his mouth. The man screamed horrified, jerking violently as he began vomiting while Tom laughed hysterically.

“What’s the matter, Soroush? Don’t like having your dick in your mouth? And here I was, thinking you and I had nothing at all in common!”


	50. Chapter 50

Carefully, Jörg peeked around the corner once the fire finally ceased. The last of the guards upstairs had fallen, while the ones downstairs had apparently deserted their boss because none had attempted to come up the stairs. Did that mean Soroush was dead? Or at least captured by Tom if he no longer had the ability to call his guards?

The entire hall was covered in blood, bullet holes and rubble, with a few corpses lying here and there. It was only now, once things had calmed down, that Jörg realized that his right arm, the one he always used to shoot around the corner, had been grazed twice and was bleeding rather heavily. Once the adrenalin started going down, the pain in his arm intensified, but he currently had no time to tend to any wounds because he had to find Tom. The boy had been the main thing on his mind, and he had cursed himself countless times for ever agreeing to this stupid plan; what if something had happened to him?  
The thought of losing him was driving him nuts, though it ceased the moment he pulled the earplugs out of his ears and heard the distant screaming that was definitely not Tom’s; that meant he must be the one causing it…

A cold shiver ran down his spine at the pleading screams, and for a moment he considered just going downstairs to wait by the car, but soon decided against it; Tom might need him even if the kid thought he could handle it all on his own. Tom had disappeared down the hall over an hour ago – Soroush should be long dead by now.

Jörg cautiously followed the screams with a raised gun just in case, creeping along the otherwise quiet corridor. As he turned around the corner, he froze as he stood face to face with a young boy who gasped as he saw him, holding up his hands in fear. Jörg immediately lowered his gun, gesturing for the boy to walk past him, but either the boy didn’t understand him or he was too scared to move.

Since there wasn’t much else he could do, Jörg simply walked past the frightened boy who immediately bolted off the moment Jörg had passed him; a few moments later he heard a screech that indicated the boy had encountered all the dead guards. Poor child… Maybe he should have done him a favor and killed him… What was going to happen to him? Where would he go? Who would take care of him?

Annoyed, Jörg shook his head; that wasn’t his business. His business was Tom… a boy with the same past. Who was now causing skin crawling screams.

It wasn’t long before Jörg arrived in front of the ajar door at the end of the corridor from which the screaming came; did he really want to go in there? Maybe he should just call for Tom to come outside…

‘ _Pull yourself together, you little pussy. It’s a bit of torture – nothing you haven’t seen before!_ ’ Jörg berated himself, though he couldn’t recall ever making someone scream this way. He usually just tortured people for information and then killed them as soon as he reached his goal, but for Tom it was different because Tom’s goal _was_ torture.

Hesitantly, Jörg peered into the ill-smelling room which was some kind of office that reeked like burnt flesh, urine and feces. There were various desks, shelves, a couch, a few corpses, severed body parts, and… Jörg gasped quietly, attracting Tom’s attention.

“What the hell is that?” Jörg whispered horrified, staring at the… thing in front of him that made horrible sounds that reached from screams to gurgling pleas and groans.

“It’s Soroush,” Tom said with a horrible smirk on his face that made him look like a complete psychopath; though maybe it was partly because of all the blood that covered him.

Jörg stared terrified at the lump of bleeding flesh in front of him; the man’s limbs had been removed and now lay scattered around the entire room, while the stumps had been carefully bound with thin ropes to keep the man from bleeding to death. His genitals had also been detached from his body and the wounds there had been cauterized with an iron rod Tom had apparently heated over their small camping burner. The torso was missing large parts of skin that had been peeled off, making it almost unrecognizable.

Swallowing the bile that rose in this throat due to the horrifying sight and the appalling smell, Jörg tore his eyes away from the most disturbing sight he had ever seen, but his eyes fell on the countless body parts all around, not making him feel any better. Apparently Tom had chopped them off with their wood ax, one by one; fingers, toes, hands, feet, arms, legs…

“Tom,” Jörg muttered queasily while the boy laughed hysterically, stabbing the man at random. “Tom!”

“What?” Tom snarled, turning towards him with a terrifying expression that simply looked insane.

“You have to stop this,” Jörg muttered shakily, trying to keep his eyes on Tom to avoid seeing anything else.

“No!” Tom screamed, torn between crying and laughing.

Jörg stepped over the body parts to reach the deranged boy, pulling him away from the tortured man whose pleads made Jörg’s stomach churn painfully.

“Get off me!” Tom screeched, trying to free himself from Jörg’s grip.

“That’s enough, Tom,” Jörg said softly. “You suffered enough.” He pulled the boy tightly against his chest while he emptied his Glock into the man’s body that finally fell silent.

“No,” Tom mumbled incoherently while he broke down into uncontrolled sobbing.

Jörg dropped the gun, wrapping his arms tightly around the crying boy that slowly sagged down to the blood covered floor while he mumbled random, unintelligible words. Jörg wished so much he could comfort him somehow – do or say something to make him feel better – but all he managed to do was mumble soothing words into his ear while he held him; he was terrible at comforting people.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, unsure whether he was trying to convince Tom or himself at this point. “Everything will be okay, I promise.” He softly kissed the boy’s temple, momentarily forgetting their boundaries. Tom’s suffering was washing over him with such force it made him want to cry from helplessness; there was nothing he could do to alleviate the boy’s torment. He felt completely inept, and his strength began leaving him both physically and emotionally.

~*~

At the moment, Tom didn’t even care that he was crying pathetically in front of Weiss; he had never felt so terrible in all his life. The burning rage towards Soroush that had kept him moving, was now gone, replaced by an empty void that was surrounded by desperate loneliness.

Weren’t it for Weiss holding him, Tom thought he might have committed suicide right there and then, because his life simply carried no more meaning. He was a horrible person who had just tortured someone in the most brutal of ways, with a messed up past and no future. The only reason he had endured all that horrible, harsh training with Weiss was because he had hoped to one day be able to do exactly what he had done now so his life would be complete, however things did not feel at all the way he had hoped. Killing Soroush made him realize that that was all he had in his life; without revenge to work towards, he had nothing.  
Aside from the man currently comforting him and whispering gentle words in his ear.

Tom wanted to sit here forever because he felt as if he let the man go, his entire life would slip away. Even though he still felt awful, his sobbing slowly subdued a bit, comforted by the tight embrace he never wanted to be released from again.

“Tom?” Weiss whispered gently; Tom loved it when the man said his name. “We should probably get going. It’s only a matter of time before someone discovers us.”

But Tom didn’t want to; he wanted to stay here and die in the man’s arms.

Weiss loosened his grip a bit, but Tom clung to his neck, feeling a new wave of tears overcoming him as the man tried to pry him off him. He was so terrified of losing the only comfort he had felt in so long that he was even risking Weiss’ anger; it didn’t matter right now anyway.

However, Weiss didn’t seem to get angry but instead picked Tom up with a hand under his knees and carried him out of the horrifying room that Tom didn’t even dare look at. He hid his face in Weiss’ shoulder, letting himself be carried out through the blood stained building of his nightmares, never to return again.

The afternoon sun began warming his blood-soaked clothes as they walked down the dirt path to their car, where Weiss opened the trunk and sat down, placing Tom next to him while he still clung to his neck.

“Do you remember me?” Tom mumbled suddenly, lifting his head a bit to look up at the other man.

“What?” Weiss asked softly, pulling back a little bit and releasing the strong grip that Tom immediately missed.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Tom asked desperately; Soroush had not remembered him whatsoever, giving him a horrible feeling of worthlessness.

Weiss frowned a bit. “Yes. Yes, I remember. It was here; on the 25th of August. Almost four years ago.”

Tom stared at him; that was quite precise. At least someone remembered him… It immediately made him feel better.

“I’m so sorry about that day,” Weiss regretted bitterly, caressing over Tom’s tear stained cheek.

“It was Soroush’s fault, wasn’t it?” Tom asked quietly, surprising Weiss. “I know that… that it was just your hand and not… So I guess you didn’t really want it but just did it so Soroush wouldn’t kill you, right?” Tom mumbled a bit flustered; it was only on that Christmas in Germany that Tom had figured that out, and right now he really wanted to hear that it had been Soroush’s fault and not Weiss’; he was so tired of hating Weiss… Especially because the man was everything he had left in the world.

The assassin nodded slowly. “Yes… But I’m still so sorry and wish it had never happened.” He pulled away another bit, releasing Tom completely.

“But,” Tom mumbled, “If that hadn’t happened, would you still have asked me to work for you?” At the current moment, all the terrible things the man had done were forgotten because Tom wanted that embrace back; he couldn’t remember anyone ever having held him like that.

“Um…” Weiss looked a bit hesitant. “No, I guess not,” He said quietly.

Tom wished he were brave enough to demand another embrace, but since he wasn’t, Weiss eventually got up to remove all the weapons from his body. It was only now that Tom saw all the blood.

“You’re injured,” he said alarmed, sliding off the back of the car to get their medical supplies which were stored in a bag on the back seat.

“A little.” Weiss nodded, removing all his weapons before slipping out of his jacket which was covered in what Tom hoped was Soroush’s blood that had been all over Tom. “You might want to change your clothes – Brian would have a stroke if you show up at his house like that,” he added with a chuckle.

Tom smiled shakily as he brought the first aid bag over.

“Wait,” Weiss stopped him as he was about to open the bag. The man opened one of the bottles of water, took a sip, and then held it out for Tom to wash his hands a bit.

Once the worst was gone, Tom opened the bag and sprayed their hands with disinfectant before searching for gauze and bandages while Weiss removed his shirt, throwing it on a pile with his jacket.  
The assassin’s body displayed various bruises and scrapes, together with two deep wounds on his right arm that Tom sprayed with disinfectant. He needed a doctor.

“Very bad?” Tom mumbled awkwardly despite the man not even flinching; he just wanted to say something because he felt somewhat uncomfortable for his earlier breakdown.

“Yes, it hurts like hell. I can’t move my arm anymore. The wounds are worse than I initially thought,” Weiss said calmly while his arm rested on his lap.

“Oh,” Tom said a bit confused; Weiss didn’t really seem to be in pain despite the jagged wounds that bled heavily.

“I think this would be the right time for you to learn how to drive. I can’t shift gears,” Weiss continued while Tom began wrapping the bandages around his arm to keep it from bleeding.

“What?” Tom asked stunned.

“It’s just dirt roads across the middle of nowhere. Once we reach the city, I’ll take over again.” Weiss shrugged, lifting his right arm with his left hand so Tom could wrap it better.

Not that Tom didn’t want to learn to drive – sure – but right now? He wasn’t sure he was mentally stable enough for something like that at the moment.

“Let’s go,” Weiss instructed once his arm was fully wrapped.

Tom stuffed all their things into the trunk of the car and then slowly got into the driver’s seat. He felt so weak and shaky already without being nervous about driving; what if he was really bad at it? Would Weiss get mad? What if he smashed the car?

“Adjust the seat and the mirrors first,” Weiss said gently, putting his seatbelt on; there was something off about him.

Tom swallowed nervously, doing as told; this was so not the right moment to learn to drive.

“Can you see the sides and through the rear mirror properly?” Weiss asked once Tom was done with everything and had adjusted his seatbelt; he nodded quickly.

“Okay. Right foot on the breaks, left on the clutch, and then turn the key.” Weiss handed him the key.

Tom nodded again, shakily putting the key into the keyhole and turning. The car turned on immediately.

“Make sure the gear shift is always positioned on 1 – like right now, and then slowly release the clutch.” Weiss nodded reassuringly.

Tom carefully lifted his left foot off the clutch; the car did a small jump and then died out immediately. Tom tightened his hands around the wheel; he couldn’t do this right now; he was too stressed and upset to be able to concentrate.

“A bit slower,” Weiss said calmly.

Tom glared over at him to tell him he couldn’t do this right now, but refrained when he saw the man’s face; he was paler than usual and looked somewhat unfocused.

“Hey,” Tom mumbled hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

“Just a bit tired. We should drive. Try it again… a bit softer. You can do it,” he encouraged quietly, giving Tom another nod and a weak smile.

Tom also nodded quickly, turning the car back on and very slowly lifting his foot off the clutch. This time the car didn’t die, but began rolling along the dirt road.

“Now gently step on the throttle, but not too hard,” Weiss instructed.

Tom did as told, and the car began moving a bit faster.

“Good,” Weiss mumbled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

“Hey wait. Don’t fall asleep,” Tom said urgently.

“Shift to 2,” Weiss mumbled even more incoherently than before.

Tom quickly shifted, making the car sound a bit more normal again as he slowly began to speed up while he began getting nervous for whole other reasons than driving. How much blood had Weiss lost? Why hadn’t he said anything before? His arm had been bleeding the entire time that they were sitting up there while Tom was crying.

“Weiss?” Tom said awkwardly, unsure what to call him as he shifted to the next gear because the car sounded unhappy again as he began speeding down the empty dirt road, far more scared of the man’s state than of having any accidents right now.

Weiss didn’t answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone ^^ I'm afraid I don't really post this story here anymore... If you want to keep reading, it's posted here:  
> https://www.wattpad.com/user/JasonPeace


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